The Sun on My Face
by LMSharp
Summary: The story of the Horse and His Boy is remarkably one-sided. There was another pair running to Narnia, two others that helped to save Archenland. This is how Aravis Tarkheena left home, became a traitor, and found herself. HHB and beyond.
1. The Sun is Dark In My Eyes

Chapter One

I suppose it all went wrong when I was ten. Until then, one could argue my life had been pretty much perfect. My mother, father, elder brother, and slaves all doted on me. I had a younger brother, also, a beautiful, charming infant, all gurgles and smiles. I was a Tarkheena, a Calormene princess, the great-granddaughter of a Tisroc. Anything I wanted was mine for the asking. I lived in a beautiful house. I suppose I was happy, though the happiness I had then was not like the happiness I have now. I know now that I was also proud, selfish, and spoiled.

But when I was ten my eldest brother went to the wars, and my mother fell ill. From the richest, most content child, I suddenly became the girl with half a family in deadly danger.

I remember the day the messenger came from the lines with the scarlet scroll. My father knew what it meant at once, and I saw his face crumple like a leaf. My heart broke. I loved my brother. I stood still, though, and did not cry or shame my brother's memory, though my heart cried to Tash why the arrow had to take Kadmel.

We did not tell my mother. She was very sick by this time. But I think she knew. I think she saw it in our faces. Because three days after we received the news of Kadmel's death my mother, too, passed on.

The household changed after that. For a long time, there was no laughter and no dancing. Lines appeared on my father's face where once there had been none, and when he spoke, his words were harsher. I changed, too, they told me. They said I grew stern. For the most part, it was I that took my young brother Hashafed in hand. I took to riding alone on my mare sometimes, when the house seemed to be closing in upon me in its oppressive silence, and the ghosts of my mother and Kadmel mocked me by their absence.

The cruel, fashionable world of the Calormene nobility cared little for the loss my family had sustained, nor could I grieve openly while among them. I was obliged to smile, and to curtsey, and to quote poetry peaceably while my heart burned ice cold within me, lest I shame my father and displease our betters.

Still, for a while, at least, I was mistress of myself and of our house. And though I was no longer happy, or even a child, there was some good in that.

But my father was powerful, and still fairly young. When I was twelve years old, he married again.

Lanavisra was lovely. Her hair was long and shining, her lips were stained perfectly red, and she always wore the nicest clothes. She was young and healthy and clever, and my father was utterly enthralled by her.

I hated her. She wasn't my mother. My brave, laughing, witty mother who would sing softly to Hashafed and tell me stories until the first watch of the morning. Lanavisra was wealthy and powerful, from Tashbaan, and had spent much of her life in the court of the Tisroc himself. Her family had lured my father in as if she were the juicy grub at the end of a fishing pole, and she was only six years my senior.

After two years of self-sovereignty and of being the lady of the house, I did not surrender to Lanavisra's authority easily. So she hated me, also. In her defense, I probably could have made it easier for her to love me, but I still believe that she did what she did out of spite, to deliberately cause my unhappiness.

My stepmother wanted to get rid of me. I was approaching marriageable age. So she cast around for the most disagreeable, eligible man she could find, and finally settled on Ahoshta Tarkaan as the means for removing me from my father's house.

Ahoshta Tarkaan was old enough to be my grandfather. He was stooped with age and infirmity. His wrinkles had wrinkles and the little hair he had left was thin and grey and greasy.

He was ugly. Ridiculously ugly. His face was all leather y like a monkey's and he had a hunchback and gnarly, grasping hands.

But I think I could have put up with all of this if he had at least been kind and good-humoured. But I knew of him, and he was not. He had actually been a merchant at birth, but had risen to wealth and power by flattering all the right people. He was a supporter of the war that had killed my brother. Oh, he was rich and powerful. They thought he'd be made Grand Vizier any day back then. But it was also whispered how the people who injured him disappeared, and how he was harsh to his slaves and miserly with his crescents.

My father informed me that he had arranged the marriage for me the day I turned thirteen. He seemed very pleased with himself. He probably thought that since I would be well cared for, wealthy, and powerful all of my days I would also be happy.

"My wife has arranged it, O my daughter and O the delight of my eyes," he said to me. "This marriage will be a most prudent and advantageous one, and you owe it all to her shrewdness and generous efforts on your behalf."

My heart was screaming, but I gave no sign of it in my voice. "O my father and O the delight of my eyes," I replied, "When is this marriage to take place?"

"The marriage will occur at the time of high summer, O my daughter," he said, placing a hand upon my shoulder. "You have but three weeks left in my house." He smiled. "I know you will delight in the honor you bring to us by this marriage."

I curtsied, and left my father. I went to my stepmother in her chambers. "How could you?" I asked, without preamble.

Lanavisra smiled at me. "With some difficulty, Aravis. It was difficult finding a man of sufficient power and deficient taste to take you, dear. Ahoshta Tarkaan will not mind that your fingernails are dirty and your hair disordered from perpetually riding that horse of yours. He will not mind that you know how to shoot a bow and wield a scimitar like an accursed barbarian. All he will see is a young face and a warm body to bear his heirs."

I shuddered. "But he's monstrous! I don't want to marry him!"

Lanavisra narrowed her eyes. "The contract has been signed. You have little choice, you ungrateful pig! Do you think I wished to marry your father? Kidrash Tarkaan, who was more than twenty years my senior and," she gave me a nasty look, "who came with a headstrong, ill-mannered, boyish brat of a daughter? I did not. But the contract was signed, the dowry was paid, and I was sold. I had as little choice in the matter as you have. So what did I do? I made the best of it. Your father is rich, and he is kind, and Hashafed, at least, is a sweet child. So I took what power I had and made my own situation a little better. What of it? So what if Ahoshta is old and unpleasant. He is rich and much more powerful than your father. You will never want for anything, and I am well rid of you, Aravis. I suggest you follow my example and make the best of it. Now begone!" She waved me away, and I went.

I went to my room, and with a word to my slave, indicated I was not to be disturbed. And then I cried. I cried for a long time.

When my face was hot, my mouth dry, and my eyes nearly swollen shut from all of the tears, I had to stop. But still I lay there on my pillow, despairing. My mother was gone. My brother was gone. Hashafed no longer needed me. And I was to be married to Ahosta Tarkaan. Live in the city among the cruel, fashionable court I hated. Trapped in marble palaces and perfumed silks. To watch helpless as my husband sent more innocent Calormene boys like my brother to their deaths. To curtsey and smile at the Tisroc and his heartless princes and empty-headed princesses. And every night to cringe as those withered, grasping hands ran over my body.

I would not! But I could not openly disobey my father. He would marry me in chains to Ahoshta to honour their contract. It was the custom. And such a marriage would only add to my stepmother's happiness. But to marry Ahoshta would be a living death, and chains would shame me.

I looked at my brother's armor and weapons. My father had gifted them to me to remember him by. A grim smile twisted my lips. I would die before marrying Ahoshta. I took my brother's dagger, and early the next morning, I told my slave to saddle my mare and I rode out alone.

The morning was still and the birds had not yet polluted the stillness with their harsh cries. The sun caressed my back, not yet hot enough to burn. But it held no pleasure for me. It was, as we said back then, dark in my eyes. I felt the dagger at my side.

I was not sad to leave my father. If he thought I'd be happy as Ahoshta Tarkaan's wife he was lost to me. I was glad to thwart my stepmother. I was sad to leave Hashafed. He would miss me, but if I married Ahoshta he'd miss me, too.

I rode out over the fields, to a forest where I knew no men lived. Quietly, I dismounted from my mare, patting her once on the neck. I unbuttoned my clothes and bared my breast. Setting my teeth, I drew my dagger with a quick prayer.

"Oh, milady, don't!" said a voice. "Don't kill yourself. It can't be as bad as all that, and even if it is, it can always get better. If you die, you'll just be dead!"

I blinked. For a moment it had seemed to me that my mare had spoken. I glanced at the dagger, and I blushed. I thought I was hearing things, just to give myself pretext for not killing myself. I was ashamed. My brother had died bravely, I had been told. Was I to thus disgrace his memory with unseemly fear of death? No. I raised the dagger again.

But in a moment, my mare was there, and her head was between me and the dagger. "Aravis," she said, and this time I saw her lips move. "Don't be a fool." I dropped the dagger in surprise.

My mare continued. "Now, think of how this will grieve your brother when he is old enough to know. Think of how it will impact his relationship with your father. And I don't know exactly what you're going into that seems so evil that you feel that there is no escape, but I remind you, Tarkheena, that you are free, and young, and have much ahead of you to take joy in. Now. Button up your blouse."

Staring, I did so. My mare kicked away the dagger I had dropped and stepped back a single step. She looked me in the eyes, and now I saw that all of the times I had spoken to her as a child I had not been imagining her understanding.

"O my mare," I said in wonder. "How…how did you learn to speak?"


	2. I Run Away from Home

**Disclaimer: **_**The Horse and His Boy**_** and the characters and events therein were the intellectual property of the brilliant C.S. Lewis, and now belong to the C.S. Lewis Estate. I hereby disclaim all rights to the contents of this story, and assert that it is written solely for the enjoyment of Narnia fans and fanfiction nerds. I am not receiving any commercial profit from what is written below.**

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

"From my mother, of course, just as you did," my mare said with a flick of her ears. She let out a little whinny. I supposed it was a horsey laugh. "I'm not a Calormene horse, Aravis."

"I know," I said. "When my mother gave you to me when I was nine she told me you had been captured on the border of Archenland."

"I'm originally from Narnia, Tarkheena," she said. "Narnia. I miss it so! In Narnia, nearly all of the animals talk. They don't here, of course. I've had to pretend to be dumb like your other horses. If they'd known, I would have been shown at fairs, made into some sort of oddity, when really I'm quite normal. I wouldn't have talked to you," she said, looking down. "But I couldn't really let you kill yourself. Why did you want to?"

"My father has signed a marriage contract with Ahoshta Tarkaan," I said. "I am to be forced to marry him in three weeks. He is utterly despicable, and old and ugly besides. I'd rather be dead."

My mare nuzzled me. "I thought when I was captured that I would rather be dead, little Tarkheena," she said. "A Talking Horse in Calormen is no better than a slave. But then I came to you, and you were kind to me, and I found my slavery not such a burden after all."

"You weren't my slave," I protested. "You were never my slave. You were my friend. Weren't you? Aren't you?"Because of course it was all different now that she had as much of a mind as I did. I hesitated. "I…what's your proper name?"

My mare nickered softly. "You wouldn't be able to pronounce it, I don't think," she said. "But back when I lived in Narnia and had friends, they called me Hwin, for short. You may do the same, Aravis. Of course we're friends."

"Hwin's a nice name," I said. I walked around her and unsaddled and unbridled her. "You know, I used to wish you could talk when I'd talk to you as a child. I wish you'd talked to me before." I sat at her feet, and Hwin lay down beside me. "Hwin?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me about Narnia?" I felt suddenly shy, and strangely young, for the first time in a long, long, time.

"Narnia," Hwin sighed. The word rolled off of her tongue like a song. "The beasts all talk so you can hardly walk through a field without a hart or a bird saying good morning. The air you breathe is fresh with the smell of trees. The good High King Peter, with his royal siblings King Edmund, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy ascended the throne when I was just a foal, breaking the hundred years of winter the White Witch had cast upon the land and killing her for good. And the land was green and the birds sang, and the fauns danced, and I hear things have only gotten better."

I closed my eyes, breathing in her words. "Tell me more," I said.

"Men and beasts and fauns and Dryads and Naiads all live together in peace. The High King protects the land, its strong leader. The Queen Susan, so I hear, graces all Narnia with her beauty. King Edmund presides over the Narnians in judgment, wise and good. And the Queen Lucy, valiant they called her even when before I was captured, she is the very heart of Narnia. Her laugh makes the flowers stand up to listen. The rivers are alive. The trees are alive, and one can have conversations with them about the spring. It is a little land, but beautiful, and everyone there is as free as the air, from the tallest giant to the smallest Talking Mouse."

"I wish I lived there," I said fervently.

Hwin turned her head to look at me. "If you did, you'd be happy, Aravis. No one is forced to marry in Narnia."

Something fired inside of me then, and I leapt to my feet. "Hwin, do you want to go back to Narnia?"

Hwin stood. "Of course I do, Aravis. Every minute of every day. I'd give, oh, anything to be home again. But I'm not there. I'm here."

"What's stopping us from going?" I demanded. "Hwin, let's run away. Let's run away to Narnia."

Hwin tossed her head and a new light came into her mild brown eyes. "I'm with you," she said. "With all of my heart. But how are we to manage it?"

I began to pace. "I don't know," I admitted. "My stepmother will be watching me; she knows I am upset. I think that new servant girl she gave me last week- Nasreen, her name was- is her spy."

"You're going to have to put them off their guard, then," Hwin said. "Pretend you've come around to their way of thinking. Dance. Sing. Thank your father and your stepmother for their efforts about fifty times each."

I had an idea. "I could ask to go perform the rites to Zardeenah," I said. Hwin wrinkled her nose.

"I don't really believe in Zardeenah," she informed me.

I waved that aside. "That's not the point," I said. "The point is, it is custom for maidens to go make secret sacrifices to her before they get married. I don't really have to go for a good two weeks, but if I ask, it will give my father and stepmother the impression I am eager for this marriage to that glorified ape, and, it'll get you and me both out of the house for three days when no one will be looking for us."

"That is a good idea," Hwin admitted. "But after that they'd start looking for you. Your father would send out messengers and search parties and catch us. We need a few weeks to get to where he can't catch us."

"I know; I'm working on it," I said. "The wedding is in three weeks," I said presently.

Hwin kicked her hoof in the turf thoughtfully. "What if you somehow got your family to believe that you met up with this Ahoshta after the rites of Zardeenah? Is it possible that you could?" Hwin asked.

I grinned. "Ahoshta Tarkaan has a house not forty miles west of here," I said. "If I could get my father to believe he was coming from there to here to marry me and met me on the way, it is possible that I could get him to believe I went ahead and married the ape and we went back to his house. Then there would be letters back and forth and between until someone realized I was not with my father or with Ahoshta. That might give us enough time to get past Tashbaan uncaught."

"You'd need help feigning the first letter,"

"My father's secretary is good at that sort of thing."

"Will he do it, though?"

I smiled sadly. "He's a slave. He won't have much choice. Normally I wouldn't force him. He helped to raise me, and there is great love between us, but I am desperate."

"I don't like it," Hwin said. "It's risky, and not very kind."

"Can you think of anything better?"

Hwin thought for a moment. "No. It's too bad that you're so important, Aravis. This would be much easier if you were a nobody like me."

"Well I'm not," I said. "Do you want to go back to the house now? If we hurry, we might be able to arrange things so that we can leave tomorrow."

"Do let's, Aravis," Hwin said. "Go ahead and saddle me. Don't forget that dagger. We might need it on the road."

I took the dagger, saddled Hwin, and we began the ride back. "I say, Hwin," I said. "Thank you. I'm glad I didn't…you know."

Hwin tossed her head. "I would have missed you, little Tarkheena," she said. "I'm glad I spoke up. Now we're going to Narnia. It's all I've ever wanted. Do be careful, though, inside the house. I shan't be able to help, you know."

"I'll be fine," I said, stooping to drop a kiss on Hwin's neck.

When we arrived back at my father's house and I had rubbed Hwin down and given her a nice meal, I went inside. I anointed myself with perfume and put on my finest clothes. It was then about time for the midday meal, and I went in to where I knew my father and stepmother would be.

The first thing I did was to kneel at Lanavisra's feet. "O my stepmother," I said. "You are the delight of my eyes. I have been hasty in judgment of this marriage most prudent you have arranged only for my good. I thank you for ensuring that I should be so happy and secure."

She frowned. "Aravis, what…" she began, but I had turned to my father.

"My father, thank you for arranging this marriage with the great and wise Ahoshta Tarkaan. Truly, I am the most fortunate of daughters!"

"My dear Aravis," he said, kissing my cheek. "You are an honour and a joy. Will you dance for me and for your stepmother?"

"It is my delight," I replied. "It has been too long since I have danced. But today my joy overflows." It was not even a lie.

So I danced, as my mother had taught me. I laughed and sang. My father thought it was because I was delighted with the plans for my marriage. And as I sat down and ate heartily I saw even my stepmother's face relax. They did not know I was joyful because I was escaping.

"Father," I said, after the meal was done, "Is it not customary for maidens to prepare themselves for marriage by the performance of certain secret sacrifices to Zardeenah, Lady of the Night, to honour her as they leave her service?"

"Your piety is truly informed, O my daughter, and it does you credit."

"If it pleases you, O my Father," I said, "To my marriage to the sapient Ahoshta, I would not arrive irreverent. It would be seemly for me to take a maidservant and ride out to complete these sacrifices."

My father smiled. "I am glad to find you so eager to marry, Aravis. Truly the poet has said, 'The veil of marriage is a woman's glory', and 'A worthy wife is more precious than gold.' If it pleases you, by all means, my daughter, ride out tomorrow."

"O my stepdaughter, have you given any thought to whom you will take with you to complete the ritual sacrifices?" Lanavisra asked me.

I curtsied. "I thought it would be fitting to take Nasreen, O my stepmother. It seems good to me that your gift to me should help me in bidding farewell to my maidenhood to take up the marriage you have arranged."

Lanavisra actually smiled. I held back a sneer. My father bade me good-bye, and I left his presence and that of my stepmother. Without delay I made my way to my father's offices. I found Baba, his secretary, there, sitting amidst my father's business scrolls.

His real name was Baratoh, and he was the oldest slave in our household. Old, ugly, and wonderfully kind from as far back as I could remember, I had spent many hours growing up upon his lap or at his feet, listening to Baba's stories about the gods and the great heroes. He loved me like a daughter, and I was about to take advantage of it cruelly.

"Baratoh," I said, shutting the door behind me. I sat across from him at his work table. "I need you to write a letter for me."

"To hear is to obey, child. What is this letter?" he said, looking slightly confused at my use of his proper name.

"This letter is to be feigned as if from Ahoshta Tarkaan, to the Kidrash Tarkaan my father. It is to say that Ahoshta, riding to my father's house in order to marry me, met me upon my completion of the ritual sacrifices to Zardeenah, Lady of the Night. It is to go on to say that once he discovered who I was, he became enflamed with love because of my beauty and discretion and married me that same hour. Having done this, we removed to his house. Conclude with an exhortation for my father to come bearing my dowry that he and I might receive my father with no offense on either side."

As I laid out this letter, Baba's face had grown more and more distressed. Now he burst out, "But child, all this is blatant falsehood! I cannot do this for you. Why do you try to involve me in this gross deception?"

I set my jaw. "I mean to run away, Baratoh. I cannot succeed in this if Ahoshta and my father both are after me the minute I leave the house. Now write the letter."

Baba shook his head. "I cannot, Tarkheena. Please, why should you run away? Have you not a care for the happiness of your father and brother? And to where do you intend to run? I beg of you, cease this folly!"

"Where I go and what I do is none of your affair, Baratoh," I said. "Are you not the slave of my family? Must you not comply with my wish?"

"Tarkheena," Baratoh began, and I could see that the slave line would not work. I steeled myself for my cruelest card.

"Baba! I will not marry a man as unprincipled and objectionable as Ahoshta!" I cried. "No, not should the Tarkaan himself, may he live forever, command it! Unless I am able to escape this fate, by Tash, they will find my lifeless body on the morrow! As you love me, Baba, write this letter!"

Fear and pity and anguish were writ across the wretched slave's face. I grit my teeth against his misery and glared. He bent his head, picked up his quill, and began to write. In not five minutes, he handed me a letter with shaking hands. "Will this do, milady?" he asked, and his voice quavered near to breaking.

I looked it over, rolled it up, and placed it within my blouse. I stood, turned, and hesitated.

Then I turned back. I could not leave Baba like this. "Oh, Baba, I'm sorry," I said quietly. "But I must go. I simply must! You won't tell?"

Baba's ancient eyes searched my face. "Promise me you will be safe and happy, Tarkheena," he commanded.

I closed my eyes briefly. "I will," I whispered. "I know it."

"Then I shall hold my peace," he promised. "Go, child. I shall miss you."

I stooped, pressed my lips to his wrinkled cheek, and left.

That afternoon and evening I spent with my brother, as Lanavisra was tending to her loom and to her fine silk. So I ignored the fluttering in my stomach and played games with Hashafed. I ate my meal with him. I told him stories and sang him songs and made him smile.

He was only five years old. I hoped he'd remember me when I was gone. I did not know if I'd ever be able to see him again, and I knew for certain that he would be at least my age, or maybe a man, before I could dare to return for a visit. Perhaps I would forever be a vague memory in his mind. Perhaps all I would ever be to him is what my mother would be to him: an object, or a fragrance; a faceless idea of a sister long since vanished. I hoped he'd be happy.

I tucked him into bed that night. "Goodnight, Hashafed," I said, kissing his smooth forehead and brushing back his black curls.

"'Night, Aravis," he said.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I love you, too."

"I love you even when I'm gone, whatever happens," I pressed. "Remember, Hashafed."

The boy yawned. "I'll remember, Aravis," he promised, and his eyes were already closed. He was already breathing more heavily. I sighed, stood, and turned off the lamp.

"Farewell, brother," I murmured at the door. "Be strong and brave. Grow. Live well. The blessings of the gods be with you. I shall carry you with me in my heart, and know that I am happier where I am."

I left Hashafed and returned to my chambers. Nasreen was there. "Tarkheena," she said, curtseying low. "My lady tells me we are to ride out on the morrow to perform the secret rites to Zardeenah."

"So we are," I said, smiling tightly. "Have you made ready your bags? We shall be gone for three days time."

"Milady, I thought I'd attend to your things first. To serve you is my honour and joy."

"Nonsense, Nasreen," I said. "Nonetheless, it was well thought of. It comes to my mind to reward you for your faithfulness. I walked to my table and took a bottle of wine I had had sent there last night when I was so miserable. While my back was to Nasreen, I withdrew a small bottle from a bag there on my table, a bottle containing a drug I had gotten last time in Tashbaan to amuse myself. It would, when dissolved in wine, ensure Nasreen slept heavily for the next twenty-four hours. I had used it on the housecat, with modified dosage of course, to great effect. She had slept for three days.

I poured the wine into two goblets, and tipped a generous bit of the powder into Nasreen's. I replaced the bottle in the bag carefully, and turned back to her.

"Drink with me, Nasreen," I said, handing her the drugged wine. "After all, we shall have to be very pious and dull indeed for the next few days. Let us be merry tonight before you wake me up early tomorrow morning."

"Why, Tarkheena," Nasreen said, with a surprised giggle. "You are too kind." She took the goblet. "Don't mind if I do." She took a sip and I sipped of mine, watching her. "You know, I worried," she said, "these past few weeks that perhaps you were not pleased with me, Tarkheena."

"However could you have gotten that impression?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Nasreen lowered her eyes shyly, and drank another sip. "Well, I did serve milady's stepmother before," she said. "And 'twas she who arranged that I serve you, instead. And…" she blushed. "'tis not my place to say, though."

I didn't know if she was alluding to the fact that she was indeed reporting my doings to my stepmother or simply hinting that she thought I would scorn a gift of my stepmother's, but I replied, "Ah, but that's all changed now, isn't it?" Nasreen's eyelids began to flutter. I raised my goblet. "To new beginnings."

She raised her goblet. "To new beginnings," and drank deeply. She yawned. "Ah, milady, you'll make such a beautiful bride." Her fingers began to relax, and she placed the goblet down on a nearby chest. Her eyelids drooped more, and I watched her until her head dropped down to her chest. I waited until I heard her breathing grow deep. Then I removed the goblet from the chest and hurled the contents, along with the contents of my own, out the window. I placed both goblets back upon my table. Then I turned back to Nasreen. I hoisted her up and half dragged her back to her room. She was a little twig of a thing, and the task was not difficult. I laid her on her couch, and left her room, closing the door and returning to my own chamber, my own no more.

It was quite late by this time, but I did not sleep. I stripped off my finery and strapped on my brother's armor and scimitar. I had to tie it very tight; Kadmel had been a bit taller, and much more muscular than I. Nevertheless, I thought it might protect me from assault upon the road. I tied my hair up and stuffed it inside his helmet, winding the turban around it as was traditional. I went to my basin and washed my face and wrists, removing the scent of my perfume. It was strange. I was dressed as a man and running from all I'd ever known towards a half-formed dream. But joy was in my heart, and I felt more myself than I had in an age.

I removed my saddlebags from the corner in which they sat, and placed all of the money I had within them, along with a few of the more expensive pieces of jewelry I had. I would need money, both on the road and in order to establish myself once I got to Narnia. My hand stole to my breast and under my breast plate and I felt there still the letter Baba had feigned for me. Then, swinging my saddlebags over my shoulder, I stole out of my room.

The only lamps roaming the corridors now were easy to avoid. I made my way to the kitchens and there from the larders I took as much fruit, dried meat, and bread as would fit in the saddlebags. I also filled a canteen with water and a flask with wine.

Having done this, I removed to the stables. The smell excited me. I looked around to make sure there were no drunken stable boys still poking around, and then I ran to Hwin's stall.

"Aravis!" she whispered, raising her head. "It's alright then?"

"All taken care of," I said. "But hold your tongue; let's get out of here first." I saddled her quickly, fitting up the saddlebags and flexing my shoulders. Then I led her out of the stall and from the door. I patted the luggage to see if it was secure, dropped a quick kiss on Hwin's nose, and was in the stirrup and into the saddle in a second. Then we rode out.

Neither of us spoke again until we were three miles north and east of my former home. Then I reached my arms down to hug Hwin's neck. "We did it, Hwin!"

"Not yet, we haven't," she returned. "There's still that letter to send, and Tashbaan to get through. Still, we're on our way."

"So we go to Azim Balda, and arrive there within four days or so, or my father will be after us. Then we shall turn our noses northward, you towards home, and I towards freedom!"

Hwin gave a little neigh. "Quicker we go the quicker we get there," she said. "Fancy a gallop?"

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for the kind reviews of my first chapter. I hope you will continue to enjoy a story where you'll know what happens, and the sole draw is my clumsy telling of it. Here at the beginning I should like to say that, similarly to the first chapter, there will be conversations of my own design throughout this narrative, and it shall follow Aravis up to and a few years beyond the lost prince of Archenland's rescue of his people. You can reasonably expect an update once a week, with up to month delays every now and then for writer's block and periods of high academic or personal stress. I'll go ahead and beg pardon here if Hwin is a bit OOC; it's just: Lewis never really GAVE her much of a character. I thank you for the time you're taking to read this, and hope you will drop a review to tell me how you think I'm doing now you're done. **

**God Bless,**

**L.**


	3. Letters and Lions

**Disclaimer: I wish I could claim this beautiful world and this inspiring story for my own. Mercenarily speaking, I wish I could get the money for my college tuition out of it. But you know what they say: if wishes were horses than beggars would ride. Well, at least in this story they do. **

Chapter Three

I woke up under a tree to find Hwin staring me straight in the face. "It is time to get up, isn't it?" I sighed. We had felt compelled to stop around daybreak. I had, after all, been up the entire night before.

"You did tell me, Aravis, that it was important to reach Azim Balda before your three days were up," she reminded me.

"What a pity I wasn't lying," I said drily. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes; I've been grazing these three hours now. Why don't you have a bite and we'll be off?"

"Alright," I said, stretching. I went to the saddlebags, splashed some water from the canteen upon my face, and took out a couple of dates. I was surprised at how happy I felt, considering I had left all I'd known. When I finished my snack, I went and saddled Hwin.

"What was it like for you?" I asked, as I swung into the saddle. "All these years here in Calormen?"

Hwin's ears twitched. "When I was first captured, it was terrible. I was still very young, not much more than a foal, and I had never known anything but courtesy from men." She snorted. "I actually didn't know many men at all, it's more dwarves and fauns and naiads and dryads and Talking Beasts like me in Narnia, to tell the truth. But when I was captured, I was beaten, and shouted at, and tied up, and made to go where I would not, and I could not protest, or I knew well enough it would only get worse. I couldn't cry, or scream, even."

I put a hand on her neck. She continued. "They brought me to the market, and I was shown with hundreds of other horses. For the first time, I felt not only unfortunate and frightened, but also very, very alone. See, none of the other horses could speak or understand speech any more than they could fly. I was very afraid, Aravis. I don't think you've ever been so afraid." She didn't say the words as an accusation; she merely said them. "That was when I wanted to die. But then your mother came." And her voice had changed. It was softer, now. "She said she liked the way I looked, and she patted my nose, and spoke quietly to me. They made me show her my paces, but I did the best I could for her in any case. I figured if I had to be a slave, mute and alone in a strange land, I'd rather serve a kind human like your mother than a cruel one. A few men came, servants, I suppose, and they led me away. I was given to you, a mere colt of a girl, two days later. I was your first real horse."

She tossed her head. "It actually wasn't so bad after that, Tarkheena," she said. "Oh, there were days I thought I'd go mad from not being able to speak, and of course it was a nuisance to have this thing in my mouth keeping me from going where I liked. You weren't a very good rider to begin with, either. But you were kind to me. I was still lonely, but you talked to me, like all little girls do to their pets." She laughed a little. "You had no idea I could understand you," she said. "I looked forward to those minutes after or during a ride when you would tell me what was happening in the house that day, how Kadmel had been teasing you, how your father was making you go all Tashbaan and you didn't want to go and curtsey before the nasty old Tisroc, ha!"

My eyes stung. I remembered those days. But I also remembered others, when I'd gone crying to Hwin because I had to be strong in the presence of my father and for Hashafed. The dark times, when Kadmel and my mother died. I'd told Hwin all of that, how nothing seemed right anymore and how it hurt so much to go in the house in the places where they'd been when they didn't come waltzing around the corner. I'd told her how it seemed the nobles of Calormen were mocking me, telling me I ought to be over it when I'd lost half my family. And…" You never said anything," I accused, and a tear ran down my cheek.

"I wanted to," Hwin said lowly, knowing right away to what I was referring. "I was very sad when you told me about Kadmel- he'd always given me sugar- and when you told me about your mother a few days later it took all my strength not to cry right along with you. It just about killed me to see you so sad, but I didn't want to frighten you…" she lowered her head. "And I didn't know then that it would be alright."

I bit my lip, and then fastened my reins to the saddlebow, very loosely. I let them go.

"Aravis? What are you doing?" Hwin asked, feeling the change.

"Is that better?" I asked. "Like I said, you're not my slave."

Hwin tossed her head to right and left, testing her new freedom. "This is strange," she remarked. "After so long, to have my head back while you're still riding…Thank you," she said. "To Azim Balda, then. Hang on!"

Traveling with Hwin was lovely. She was even better company than she'd been before I knew she could talk. She was thoughtful and kind and I could tell she loved me. She always picked the nicest places to rest, always near enough to a village that I could get food if I needed it, but far enough away that we could talk.

The fourth morning of our journey we rode into sight of Azim Balda, which was just as well, because back at my father's house they would start looking for me today.

"Remember not to talk when we're there, Hwin," I said.

"You won't catch me forgetting," Hwin whispered. "I've just as much to lose as you."

Indeed, she said not a word as we rode into Azim Balda. Azim Balda was not quite as bad as Tashbaan, but I still wasn't too fond of it. The streets spread out in every direction; it was a great swollen spider of a city, because there were roads here to almost every part of Calormen. As a direct result of this, there were shops everywhere. I found that Hwin could not take more than three steps between shouts from the different merchants.

"Buy my jewelry, fine sir, rubies to adorn your paramour's pretty neck."

"Fine spices from Galma! Make every meal a feast!"

"Just five crescents for treasures from overseas!"

I brushed past them all with a hand to my purse and close to my dagger, lest any pickpocket be brave enough to set upon us. With the other hand I directed Hwin to the House of Imperial Posts just north of the center of the city.

The building was neat and relatively quiet compared to the rest of the bustling trade center. I tied Hwin up just outside on the hitching post, and whispered, "I'll be right back, I promise."

I went inside. The Chief Messenger was easy to find. His office was just to the right of the spartan parlor. A few Tarkaans milled about here and there handing messages to runners. I set my shoulders like a soldier and walked as if I was above them all, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. I walked across to the office. I didn't knock. I just walked in.

"In accordance with the privileges of Tarkaans, O dispatcher of messages, I have a missive for you," I said without preamble.

The Chief Messenger looked up from behind his desk. "Is that so, milord?" he asked, bowing low. But his small black eyes in his bearded face surveyed me critically.

"It is," I said, lowering my voice so as not to be discovered for the girl. I reached inside my armor and withdrew the letter I'd had Baba write. "My uncle is Ahoshta Tarkaan. This message is from him to Kidrash Tarkaan of Calavar. You will cause it to be sent to him. Take these five crescents for your pains."

This was a full two crescents more than I needed to pay, but I had no identification. In truth, I did not know if Ahoshta Tarkaan even had a nephew. At this phase of the plan, I was trusting to my confidence, generosity, and the power of Ahoshta and my father to see me through.

The Chief Messenger took the letter and the money from my hand, but his eyes did not leave my face. "To hear is to obey," he said simply, bowing. I turned my back then, and left.

I thought it very likely that the Chief Messenger suspected I was not who I said I was, but I also thought that in his line of work, he'd probably carried much stranger messages from much stranger persons. I thought I need not worry.

Still, when I returned to Hwin we rode away quickly.

Outside Azim Balda, Hwin asked me the reason for my haste. "Ah, my father and Ahoshta will be tied up for nearly two weeks sorting out the mess I just left for them, but when they begin to trace me they'll go first to Azim Balda, realizing I must have sent the false letter from there. Better if we're far away from there by then. Best if we're well out of Tashbaan, actually."

"But do you think they could possibly know where we've gone?" Hwin asked reasonably. "I mean, you haven't told anyone, have you?"

"Not even Baba," I said. "But the Chief Messenger suspects something's up, I'd wager. And who's to say he did not have spies that observed our departure and can inform him of our direction? At any rate, once my father learns of our flight, he will go to Tashbaan to seek news of me amongst the nobility. He well knows I could not fly without help."

"Luckily, he can't know the agent of your aid," Hwin said. "Ah well, fast it is then. Just as well. I'd just as soon be in Narnia."

We rode northeast, towards Tashbaan, and towards the sea. We found the sea first. One night, about a week after we'd gone through Azim Balda, we were riding, just under the edge of a lovely wood that had shaded us during the day, when Hwin stopped up short.

"Aravis!" she hissed. "Listen!"

I froze. "What is it?"

"There's another horse," she said. "Just between us and the sea. Oh, he's big, a charger. Well-trained."

"Is there a rider?" I asked in a low voice. We were far from any villages. I could think of only one reason a quality charger would be out tonight in these parts.

"Yes, but the rider's very light," Hwin said. "He might be a messenger."

"But he may be looking for us," I said. "He's stopped. Can he see us?"

"Not if we're very still and quiet," Hwin replied. "Don't move, Aravis. There's a cloud coming, and after that, we can hide in the woods."

My bones ached from stillness as we waited for the cloud to cover the moon. The night grew dark, and I shivered. Quietly, Hwin began moving towards the tree.

Suddenly, the night was rent by a hideous roar, from behind us and slightly to our left, towards the sea. I was nearly thrown, Hwin started running so fast. I bit my lip. Lions!

We galloped for some time, and then slowed.

"You think it's gone?" I asked after several minutes, but just then the roar sounded again, this time much closer, and nearly to our right.

"Tash preserve us! Two of them!" I cried as Hwin wheeled.

We galloped and galloped for maybe six minutes together without further roaring when I noticed the horse Hwin had heard earlier galloping nearby, not a shout's distance away.

"We can't be caught, Hwin," I hissed. "I might as well be killed by those lions!"

She tossed her head in acknowledgment, and began to sheer away. No sooner had we begun to get away, though, than the roaring broke out again, first on one side, and then on the other, over and over, following us like a very demon.

We grew nearer and nearer to the other horse, and still the roaring went on. My heart was in my throat. This far only to be eaten by lions! It was unbearable. We were right up with the other rider now, as if it were a race, and the moon came out behind us.

The roaring continued, and I looked nervously over at the horse and rider with which I was to die. The horse was a charger, alright, a war-horse my father would have been proud to own. But I had to notice, despite my fear, that the rider was no Tarkaan. He was not, in fact, so much bigger than me, and he rode awkwardly, like he was still just learning.

Then there was a splash and my eyes stung as the saltwater hit them. We had ridden into a deep inlet of the sea. There was one last roar, and I whirled and saw the great shaggy outline of a lion on the shore. I wondered where the other had gone. But it didn't matter. The lion had stopped following us. I saw it turn and walk away.

I could see the opposite shore now, and so could Hwin.

"Oh, I _am_ so tired," she said.

I looked nervously at the other rider. "Hold your tongue, Hwin, and don't be a fool," I hissed.

I felt Hwin's hooves hit the ground, and I took the reins, anxious to get away from this horse and rider, spy or not, before they started asking awkward questions. I was tired, too. I had been scared nearly to death. But safety came first, then rest.

But the minute the other pair and we were both out of the water, the war-horse cut us off.

Then, to my astonishment, he spoke. "Broo-hoo-hah! Steady there! I heard you, I did. There's no good pretending, Ma'am. I heard you. You're a Talking Horse, a Narnian Horse just like me."

**A/N: Enter BREE and SHASTA, stage left. Aslan grant that I do them justice. Thank you for all your lovely reviews. I'm glad people are enjoying this story. I'm editing the next few chapters, and they'll be out over the next two weeks or so, but I'm also in the middle of midterms, so take that under advisement. Please leave a note to tell me what you think, and know your patronage to my little fiction is very much appreciated. **

**God Bless!**

**L.**


	4. The Horse and That Boy

**Disclaimer: Any dialogue you recognize is the intellectual product of C.S. Lewis. Any you don't I came up with in my free time, free of charge. **

Chapter Four

I rallied quickly. I grabbed for my scimitar. "What's it got to do with you if she is?" I demanded.

The stranger gasped. "Why, it's only a girl!" he said, in a boy's voice: musical, but uncultured. I cursed the vehemence that had revealed my sex.

"And what business is it of yours if I am only a girl?" I shot back. "You're only a boy: a rude, common little boy- a slave, probably, who's stolen his master's horse."

"That's all you know," retorted the boy, unabashed. He would have said more, but the stallion cut in.

"He's not a thief, little Tarkheena. At least, if there's been any stealing, you might just as well say I stole him. And as for its not being my business, you wouldn't expect me to pass a lady of my own race in this strange country without speaking to her? It's only natural I should."

"I think it's very natural, too," put in Hwin, a little annoyed, by her tone.

"I wish you'd hold your tongue, Hwin," I muttered. "Look at the trouble you've got us into."

"I don't know about trouble," the strange boy said, putting his hands up in a clear non-offensive gesture. "You can clear off as soon as you like. We shan't keep you."

Despite his words the war horse did not move out of Hwin and my path.

"No, you shan't," I said emphatically, trying to maneuver Hwin around. But she dug her feet in, and wouldn't go.

"What quarrelsome creatures these humans are," remarked the war horse genially. "They're as bad as mules. Let's try and talk a little sense. I take it, ma'am, your story is the same as mine? Captured in early youth- years of slavery among the Calormenes?"

"Too true, sir," Hwin said. I left off pulling at her and crossed my arms.

"And now, perhaps- escape?"

"Tell him to mind his own business, Hwin," I said, clutching the reins nervously.

Hwin's ears flicked back. "No, I won't, Aravis. This is my escape just as much as yours. And I'm sure a noble war horse like this isn't going to betray us." To the stallion she said, "We _are_ trying to escape, to get to Narnia."

The war horse nodded his great head gravely. "And so, of course, are we. Of course you guessed that at once. A little boy in rags riding (or trying to ride) a war horse at dead of night couldn't mean anything but an escape of some sort. And, if I may say so, a high-born Tarkheena riding alone at night- dressed up in her brother's armor- and very anxious for everyone to mind their own business and ask her no questions- well, if that's not fishy, call me a cob!"

I thrust out my chin. "All right then, you've guessed it. Hwin and I are running away. We are trying to get to Narnia. And now, what about it?" I crossed my arms, daring the other horse to speak.

He whinnied. "Why, in that case, what is to prevent us all going together? I trust, Madam Hwin, you will accept such assistance and protection as I may be able to give you on the journey?"

Hwin inclined her head graciously, and I could see what she though. The stallion did have a certain charisma. Still, I felt my wishes were being very blatantly ignored. "Why do you keep talking to my horse instead of to me?"

The stallion looked at me then. "Excuse me, Tarkheena," he said quietly. "But that's Calormene talk. We're free Narnians, Hwin and I, and I suppose, if you're running away to Narnia, you want to be one, too. In that case Hwin isn't your horse any longer. One might just as well say you're _her_ human."

I didn't exactly know what to say to that. Hwin wasn't my slave; we'd established that. But she was my friend. When we got to Narnia, I'd be her foreign friend. I supposed, in a way that would make me her human. It was very strange.

"Still," I said after I'd recovered. "I don't know that there's so much point in all going together. Aren't we more likely to be noticed?"

"Less."

Hwin broke in. "Oh, do let's," she cried. "I should feel much more comfortable. We're not even certain of the way. I'm sure a great charger like this knows far more than we do."

"Oh, come on, Bree," said the boy, speaking for the first time since we'd all started talking. "And let them get on their way. Can't you see they don't want us?"

"We do!" protested Hwin.

I hesitated. "Look here. I don't mind going with you, Mr. War Horse, but what about this boy? How do I know he's not a spy?"

The peasant snorted. "Why don't you say at once that you think I'm not good enough for you?" I rounded on him, mostly because his remark, although quite rude, was not completely unfounded. He didn't seem like he knew enough to be a spy, truth be told.

But the stallion Bree cut me off with a reprimand for the boy. "Be quiet, Shasta," he said. "The Tarkheena's question is quite reasonable. I'll vouch for the boy, Tarkheena. He's been true to me and a good friend. And he's certainly either a Narnian or an Archenlander."

I looked the boy over with distaste. "All right, then," I agreed. "Let's go together."

"Splendid," said Bree. "And now that we've got the water between us and those dreadful animals, what about you two humans taking off our saddles and our all having a rest and hearing one another's stories?"

So we stopped. I unsaddled Hwin, and that boy unsaddled the war-horse. The two horses walked a little ways off then. "No sense hearing a lot of stories without a bite to eat, first," Bree said.

And the two of them set to grazing in the grass there- we had moved a little farther west than we had been previously- and then they started talking.

It was very queer to hear two horses talking together and getting to know one another just as two people might do. I supposed that even though I'd gotten used to Hwin speaking, I hadn't actually conceptualised Talking Beasts, in the plural, talking to one another and not only to people. It was rather more awkward than I'd thought.

For there I was left with that boy, who was looking about as uncomfortable as I felt. Well he should, I thought, he was the likes that would not have been permitted to even look at me back home. Still, we were traveling together.

I withdrew some fruit and sugared rolls from my saddlebags, along with my wine flask.

"There's no point sitting around doing nothing," I said. "Would you care for something to eat, boy?"

"It's Shasta," the boy said sullenly. "And no, thank you. I'm not very hungry. Go ahead, though, Aravis, is it? Don't let me stop you."

"As you will." I took a bite out of an orange and saw the boy blink. His mouth opened a bit, and I fought a smirk. Served him right for lying about being full. I wouldn't offer again.

"So, er, it's a lovely evening, don't you think?" the boy said in an affected tone, sitting up far too straight.

I looked away. "Rather too many lions, I thought," I replied.

"Well there is that, of course," he said hastily. He shut up for a second then, and I didn't have anything in particular to say to him. Oh, what my friends would say!

But by and by he spoke again. "They're having a right jolly time of it…er, Bree and Hwin seem to be getting along, do they not?"

I looked over at the horses. Hwin and Bree did seem to be having a 'right jolly time of it', as the boy had succinctly put it before he'd corrected his phrasing out of some misguided and awkward sense of courtesy. They were talking animatedly about places I'd never seen on a map (Beaversdam, Lantern Waste), and people I'd never even heard of (Hwee-brinnoo-hah the Old). I shrugged, but felt a little lonely and a little foolish all the same. The boy scowled, and tried to sit up even straighter.

Finally, the horses came and lay down beside us, and Bree said, "And now, Tarkheena, tell us your story. And don't hurry it- I'm feeling comfortable now."

So I did. I told my story an Hwin's, just as I'd been taught from childhood. Of course, I wasn't allowed to tell it well, just as I liked with no interruptions- Hwin was dissatisfied when I edited her speech to me and that boy wanted to know all about the letter before it made sense to tell about it. Only Bree, it seemed, knew how to listen to a story with any manners. And when it was over, that boy actually had the nerve to ask, "And what happened to the girl- the one you drugged?"

I shrugged. Of all the things to ask he wanted to know about Nasreen? "Doubtless she was beaten for sleeping late. But she was a tool and a spy of my stepmother's; I am very glad they should beat her." I think I saw Hwin look away, and Shasta said,

"I say, that was hardly fair."

I bristled. Who was he to pass judgment on me? "I did not do any of these things for the sake of pleasing you," I informed him.

He shrugged this off. "And there's another thing I don't understand about that story," he said. "You're not grown up, I don't believe you're any older than I am. I don't think you're as old. How could you be getting married at your age?"

Bree looked at the boy. "Shasta, don't display your ignorance," he reprimanded. "They're always married at that age in the great Tarkaan families."

Quite right, I thought, as the boy looked down and was silent at last. I spoke. "Now, Mr. Bree, would you do us the honour of relating your tale?"

Bree shifted. "I, like the good lady Hwin here, foolishly wandered south of Archenland in my youth," he said. "I was captured, and these seven years I have served as a slave in Calormen, pretending idiocy, fighting in wars not my own, but always, always, looking for a chance to escape and return to home and freedom. About a month and a half ago, my old master, the Tarkaan Anradin, rode out from his home in Saltashar upon me for a visit to a province in the north. One night, he stopped at the hut of a fisherman and demanded hospitality. Now, this fisherman lived with a boy, and by and by, this boy came out and started talking to himself.

"It seemed Anradin had taken a fancy to him and wanted him as a slave, and the boy was wondering how he'd be treated. I started listening then, and when the child said, expecting no answer, that he thought I should know how he would be treated, and expressed a wish that I was able to tell him- well, I took the chance. The boy was Shasta, of course. You'd worked that out. I told him that my master was horribly cruel to his slaves, and he was justifiably frightened. He told me he would run away, and I convinced him that we would be better off running away together to Narnia: where there aren't any slaves and where I'd been trying to get to for seven years."

Hwin laughed. "You did sort of steal him, didn't you, Bree?"

Bree's tail flicked back and forth. "I did, rather, I suppose. Of course, he couldn't ride. He'd ridden the donkey, though, and thought he'd be able to ride me! As if a dumb donkey could compare in any way to riding a horse, let alone a Talking war horse like me. I had to teach him. I've taught Shasta everything he knows, you know, but he's still a long ways to go. Oh, we've been riding north about five weeks now, and I think Shasta's imprinted at least five of the Tisroc's provinces with his behind in multiple locations. He must have had four dozen falls at least! There was this one time when we were galloping across a field, a delightful, springy field, and he takes it into his head to fall into the one spiny bush in the whole lovely place!"

Bree was enjoying this, but Shasta looked annoyed, and I confess I did not see anything particularly funny about the boy's clumsiness, whatever Bree thought. The fact was that he'd never sat on a horse until five weeks ago, let alone a well-bred Narnian war horse, and to come five weeks on an escape to Narnia from a little north of Saltashar with only four dozen falls was rather impressive. Oh, he was obviously an amateur rider, but I could not have told by the way he rode tonight that he'd just begun five weeks previously.

Bree seemed to feel that the joke had fallen rather flat, for he said, "But he's getting better. He is getting better. He'll be halfway decent, yet, by the Lion. There hasn't been anyone following us, because of course Anradin thought I went home, and he won't have thought that a poor fisherman's drudge could have stolen me."

"That, and we left tracks going south," Shasta muttered. "That was my idea."

"And so we've continued almost entirely across Calormen and now we've met up with you two- pleasure, to be sure- and the four of us are a little more than a week out of Tashbaan. And after that, the desert, and then it's Narnia and the North!"

"But before that, a little sleep, I think," Hwin said, reasonable as always.

"Of course, of course," Bree said. "Goodnight then, madam, Tarkheena. Goodnight, Shasta."

"Good morning by now," Hwin pointed out, "But good night, Bree. Goodnight, Shasta. Goodnight, Aravis."

"Goodnight," I said.

" 'Night," Shasta mumbled.

The horses went right to sleep. It took me a little longer, but when I finally dropped off that boy was still sitting up against Bree's side, looking northward at the stars, arms crossed.

**A/N: Ok, Aravis is admittedly awesome- my favorite female character of Lewis' Chronicles by far- but I have to say that writing this story from her point of view is making me appreciate Shasta more (you won't catch me calling him Cor, I don't agree with the Tarkheena that it's a nicer name, it's GHASTLY). He has all of these virtues without ever being taught, and to have put up with Aravis' snobbery for all the time he did…well. Anyway, you didn't need to know all that.*embarrassed shrug* I hope you're still enjoying my story! Leave a review, please!**

**God Bless,**

**L.**


	5. Making Plans

**Disclaimer: Sigh. Not mine. Over fifteen thousand words, now, and still not mine. And I **_**did**_** like writing this chapter!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Five<p>

The sun was well up when Bree woke us all the next day, and I got my first good look at our new companions.

Bree was a strong, impressive looking dapple, much bigger than my Hwin. He carried his finely-shaped head proudly, and I couldn't help but feel that as handsome, capable, and intelligent as he looked, he thought himself about twice as such. Still, I was pleased that he was with me.

I was not so pleased with his choice of companion, though I supposed he'd done the best he could have. This peasant boy was poor, underdressed, and had already demonstrated himself woefully ignorant. He looked to be about fourteen years old. He wasn't quite pale, not with all the dirt and the weeks traveling with Bree in the southern sun, but I could see what Bree meant about him being a Narnian or Archenlander. The blonde, tousled mop was a bit of a giveaway. Beneath the dirt, I supposed he might be rather nice-looking, and even I had to concede his eyes _were_ lovely- a bright sea-green I never saw in the dark faces of my countrymen.

Still, he was _so_ peasant-y. Just the thought of what my friends might say if they knew I was traveling with the likes that served us as slaves was nearly enough to bring a blush of shame to my face. Worse than that, though, if possible, is what his presence forced me to acknowledge.

I looked away from Bree and that boy, biting into an apple and drinking some water. Shasta's presence demanded the question of who I would be once we arrived. Had I given up my rank to attain my freedom? If so, it was a humbling realization, and not altogether welcome. Would I be seen as I saw this dirty, ignorant boy once I had arrived in the North?

If this was the case, conscience and practicality necessitated that I acknowledge him as an equal. This boy, Hwin, and Bree would be all I had once we arrived in Narnia. But even as my mind reached this conclusion, my habits rebelled. I could not quite just yet overcome the prejudices I had grown up with. Every sense bore witness that this boy was very much an inferior. Still, this much I would concede: I would not treat Shasta as the slave that he looked.

I glanced over at him again with distaste. He caught my gaze, and smiled hesitantly. I turned from him, not wanting to admit that there was intelligence and friendliness there beneath the grime and ignorance. Shasta, more by what he represented than by what he was, made me uncomfortable.

I turned to Hwin, and held out the rest of the apple I'd lost my appetite for. She finished it delicately, and nuzzled my hand.

"What do you think of our new companions?" I whispered, as Bree and Shasta talked amongst themselves- probably about us, I thought wryly.

"Bree is very gracious to offer to escort us," Hwin said without thought. "I'm actually rather shy of him to tell the truth, Aravis. Shasta is nice enough, I think. And I am glad it's not just us. I feel safer with Bree around."

"Me, too," I admitted. "But that boy might be a liability, though. Oh, I'm sure he has as much incentive to get to Narnia as any of us, but he's had no proper training. He might muddle the whole thing at any moment, out of sheer ignorance!"

"Give him a chance, Aravis," Hwin advised. "Bree told us he had no idea how to ride and you saw yourself he's already about as good as you were when we first met. He's obviously a fast learner, and I daresay he'll do much better if you help him than if you are so suspicious and stand-offish from the get-go."

"I will try, Hwin," I said after a moment. "It's just so strange. A fortnight ago, horses didn't talk and a boy like that would be cleaning out your stable and emptying my chamber pot."

"And now horses are your friends and confederates and Shasta is your best and only human friend," Hwin laughed. "Oh, you poor little rich girl."

"_You_ are my best friend," I said, kissing her nose.

Bree and Shasta had finished saying whatever they wanted to say. Bree came over. "Tarkheena, ma'am, shall we be off?" he asked.

"We shall," I said, and Shasta and I set about saddling the horses.

"I say, it is a nice morning," Shasta said, directing his words to Hwin and me. I frowned. He would _make_ me notice him, wouldn't he?

But Bree spared me. "Brooh-hooh-hah, quite," he said, stamping his back left hoof. "I think a nice brisk trot to start off with, don't you, milady? Narnia and the Nortfirsh!"

Two days later, I was finding traveling with the others to be about as much as a mixed experience as I had thought at first. It was good that it was no longer just Hwin and me, for though I never liked big parties, I had never been one for solitude before the deaths of my brother and mother had left me little other choice. Bree in particular was a wonderful companion. He was intelligent and amusing, and, as it turned out, had seen a great many of the same people and places that I knew.

He knew my cousin Alimash, the son of my father's older sister. His master had spent time around the very same lakes that I had played in as a child. Of course, he didn't have much to say of any of it. His experience of the things I knew had only been as a slave and a horse, forbidden to wander freely and to form actual opinions. His opinions of the wars were interesting: it fascinated me to hear tales of battle and strategy from a horse's point of view, but they were also painful, because I was reminded of my brother.

That boy was about as much of an irritation as I had suspected. He knew nothing of anything Bree and I had to say, and when he did venture to say something, he usually got it wrong. Most afternoons he kept quiet, as if in acknowledgment of the fact that he was traveling with his betters, but every morning he had forgotten again, and good-morninged me just as if he had been a young Tarkaan of long-standing acquaintance! The most irritating thing about it, of course, was that he might as well have been. We were refugees together, and this boy had every right to speak to me on familiar terms. But I did not have to and did not deign to step down and acknowledge it with familiarity of my own. It grew more irking every day, but for the most part I ignored him.

The boy had been an expected drawback of the new arrangement, though. Hwin's sudden reticence was altogether unexpected. She spoke less frequently than the boy, but her silence was not something I had desired. She spoke to me in the mornings, and occasionally whenever the conversation turned to Narnia, or some commonplace of the weather. But anytime Bree and I spoke of war or of Tarkaans and Tarkheenas she cast her gaze down and would not speak. Occasionally in the evenings, too, she would speak, but usually, oddly enough, the person she addressed at these times was that boy. I did not know why she should pay any attention to him, or why she should not enter into my conversations with Bree, but in any event, she did not.

But now there were more people on the roads. There had been four times today when we had had to duck off the road and behind a hill when Bree or Hwin had warned us that someone was coming.

"That's it," the boy said after yet another stop to watch a merchant pass by on the road to Tashbaan. "Let's not get back on it 'til after dark, I say."

"Mmm, that's good thinking, Shasta," Bree agreed. "By the Mane, to be discovered now!"

"And not two weeks from the border," I agreed.

"We should travel by night from now on, I think," Bree said. "We are less likely to be seen that way, and far harder to make out if we are."

"We shan't be able to go through Tashbaan in the night," I said. "The gates are closed at dusk, and opened every morning again at dawn. How do you propose to get past there?"

"Do we have to go through Tashbaan at all, I wonder?" Hwin said. "Wouldn't it be better to go around it, don't you think?"

"My dear Madam," Bree said disdainfully. "Tashbaan extends for miles around. On one side is the sea, on another is the desert, and on the third there are all sorts of hills and small villages and outlying dwellings, we'd have to go days out of our way to bypass all of them, and I wouldn't know the way besides. No, best to stay close to Tashbaan."

"In that case, do we have to talk about it quite yet?" asked Shasta. "I mean, we're days out, still."

So the subject was avoided for the time being. But of course we couldn't put it off for long. All that night we talked of it.

"See here, let's all be sensible about this," Bree said. "Tashbaan is an enormous, ancient city made up of several levels and thousands of people, with two hundred or so that might recognize Aravis, and a few less than that that might recognize me. There are far more than that, however, that would remark on the fact of a girl in the armor of a Tarkaan traveling with a peasant on a noble war-horse. The problem is how to get past the city without being stopped. So: the first thing is to come up with a place where we may all meet up in the event that things do not go well. If you all do not object, I think I know the very location. Just north of Tashbaan, outside the gates and just on the edge of the desert are the tombs of the Ancient Kings. They're these things like great stone beehives, you can't possibly miss them. And the best of it is that none of the Calormenes will go near them because they think the place is haunted by ghouls and are afraid of it."

I bit my lip. Wouldn't the ancient kings object to our presence, though? "Bree," I ventured. "Are you…absolutely certain that there are not ghouls?"

Bree snorted. "By the Lion, child! I'm a free Narnian. Those tales of ghouls are all Calormene superstition, nothing more."

"I'm not a Calormene," that boy said. "Huh. I don't care a straw for those old ghoul stories, either. No fear!"

I felt my cheeks heat up slightly, and I retorted, "Even if there are ghouls I shan't be afraid, so there!"

"Good, then," Shasta smirked, and I glared at him.

"Splendid!" Bree said. "So, shall we settle on the tombs as a meeting place should we get separated in Tashbaan?"

"I'm game," Shasta said.

"So am I," I said, even though I was not. I would not show fear when that…that peasant did not. "Hwin?"

"Oh, I should say the tombs are as good of a meeting place as any other," Hwin said. "But it seems to me the issue is not where we should go when we get out of Tashbaan or if we get separated, heaven forbid, but how we should get through the city in the first place."

"We'll settle that tomorrow, Ma'am," Bree said with a whinny. "Dawn's coming. Time for a little sleep now."

But the next night, of course, we had to talk about it all again.

"Is there any back way through Tashbaan?" Shasta wanted to know.

I waved a hand. "There's a river that runs under the city, from the great river mouth that opens up to the sea in the east to the western edge." I paused. "I say, could we not swim across the river mouth in the night?"

"Oh, no, Tarkheena," Bree said, sounding very shocked. "For one thing, the river mouth is very wide, deep enough for the great ships to come dock in the very city, in fact. I should think it far too great a swim for Madam Hwin, here, particularly if you are on her back in all of that armor." He snorted, and I wondered if he should find it so much easier than Hwin. "Also, there are the ships to be reckoned with. Even at night there will be all sorts of boats on the river mouth. Fishermen, merchants, visiting ambassadors, and if anyone sees two horses and riders going past, there'll be sure to be questions, you know."

"You say the river comes out the other side," Shasta said. "Wouldn't it be narrower? Couldn't we go round that side of Tashbaan and cross it there?"

I shook my head, and Bree explained. "No, that's no good either. That's very nice country, there, on the western side of Tashbaan, and there are gardens and house parties all along there. There will be all sorts of Tarkaans and Tarkheenas living on the sides and having water-parties."

"There are bound to be people there I know," I said in a low voice.

"Or even someone who might recognize me," said Bree.

"So we'll have to have a disguise," Shasta said reasonably.

Hwin shook her head. "No, Bree's right," she said. "The plan still wouldn't work, Shasta. I do think trying to go around Tashbaan won't work, however we do it. I think it'd be better to go straight through the city, actually. During the day, so there will be all sorts of people around and we will be less likely to be noticed. But I do think we ought to be disguised, too. In a crowd it is unlikely that anyone we meet will be looking for us, per say, but someone might be looking for Aravis by now, and if anyone sees you and Shasta together, Bree, they're likely to be curious."

She looked around at all of us, and, taking courage from the expectant silence, she went on. "Both the humans will have to dress in rags and look like peasants or slaves. And all Aravis' armor and our saddles and things must be made into bundles and put on our backs, and the children must pretend to drive us and people will think we're only pack-horses."

I looked at Bree's tall stature and proud gait. "My dear Hwin! As if anyone could mistake Bree for anything but a war horse however you disguised him!"

"I should think not, indeed," snorted Bree.

Hwin was silent a moment. "I know it's not a very good plan, but I think it's our only chance. And we haven't been groomed for ages and we're not looking quite ourselves," she hesitated, looking sidelong at Bree. "At least, I'm sure I'm not. I do think if we get well plastered with mud and go along with our heads down as if we're tired and lazy- and don't lift our hooves hardly at all- we might not be noticed." She stopped, and then added, as if just thinking of it. "And our tails ought to be cut shorter: not neatly, you know, but all ragged."

"My dear Madam," Bree said, "Have you pictured to yourself how very disagreeable it would be to arrive in Narnia in that condition?"

"Well, the main thing is to get there," Hwin said.

"Better to get to Narnia a little dirty than not to get there at all, Bree," Shasta said after a moment. He laughed a little. "It's not like I have any choice." He gestured at his peasant's attire.

"I still don't like the idea of going through Tashbaan," I muttered.

"If you can think of anything else, Aravis," Hwin said. "I don't like it much either. But it does seem our best shot."

"It does," sighed Bree, "As much as I hate to admit it."

"But how are we to get all the things we need?" asked Shasta. "Packs don't make themselves, you know. And I don't think you've got any of my sort of clothes in your saddlebags, Aravis, no offense."

I was silent. The question had hardly needed asking. Bree answered. "Well, we are refugees in a strange land. There are a number of farms around here with things like bags and rope. I'm sure we can do a bit of a raid here and there."

"You mean steal the stuff," Shasta said levelly.

"Surely you've done it before," I said. Peasants stole things. Everyone knew that.

"As a matter of fact, I haven't," Shasta snapped. "Before Bree and I met I'd never once touched anything that wasn't mine or Fath…I mean, the fisherman's. I know what you think of me, Aravis, but I'm not a thief."

I looked away, embarrassed. "Now, now, Shasta," Bree said. "Let's not start a quarrel. What has to be done has to be done. There's a farm there over on our right. One of you will have to go."

I looked over at the quiet barn over the field in which we were riding. I swallowed. "I'll do it," I said. "Hwin, let me off. Wait here."

The horses stopped. I looked over at Shasta. He looked back at me, and I could not read his expression in the dark. My stomach clenched, and I couldn't tell you today if it was in guilt, apprehension, or anger. I gritted my teeth and jumped out of the saddle.

"Do be careful, Aravis," Hwin murmured. I jerked my head at her and began making my way through the field.

It was nearing autumn now, and the wheat was tall. After a few paces, I looked back, and if I had just been relying on my eyes, I could not have told the horses and Shasta from random bushes in the field. The night was very dark; it was near three in the morning. In the night every field mouse seemed a giant, and my ears were peeled for anything worse. I drew near to the barn, and circled it to the door. I tried it. It was unlocked.

Slowly, I pulled it open. It let out a whine on rusty hinges, and I cringed. I darted inside and into an empty horse stall. I waited one, two, three minutes and no one had come. I breathed again and looked around. Just there, across the barn that smelled of hay and manure I saw the tools the farmer used in his work every day: a scythe, a plow. And lying at the base of the wall, several dirty, burlap sacks. I looked around for rope, but saw none. I grabbed the sacks, and stole back out the way I came. My heart was pounding as I slowly closed the door again, easing it up where the hinges creaked so it rotated silently.

As I made my way back through the wheat field I was careful not to go quickly, so that I could be heard should someone wake over at the farm house. It took me several minutes to get back to the horses and that boy.

"There," I said. "Simple, really," I wasn't sure if I was addressing Shasta or myself. I stuffed the bags into Hwin's saddle bags.

"Was there rope?" Bree asked.

"No," I said.

"No matter. There's sure to be another farm tomorrow night, this close to Tashbaan. Let's get on a ways before we stop, though, just to be safe."

The next night there was another farm. I was going to go again to look for the rope when that boy stopped me. "No, don't," he said. "If anyone catches me, I'll get a beating and then let go. If you're caught it's over for you. Stupid for you to go, really. I ought to have thought of it yesterday."

He was out of the saddle before I could protest, and left us there. I could see his progress through the field as he passed the stalks and shook them.

"Clever of him," Bree remarked. "I should have thought of that, too. But Shasta's not a fool, for all he's had no upbringing to speak of."

"He'll probably muddle the whole thing," I said.

"He might," Bree said.

"I think you two are too hard on him," Hwin said. "I think Shasta's probably likely to do just as well as Aravis did last night."

"He won't find a set of clothes for me, though," I said.

"No," Bree said. "I suppose we'll have to buy them. If I remember correctly there's a village less than a day from here. We can stop close to it this morning and Shasta can go there tomorrow to pick them up for you."

"I suppose I am not to go again?" I said frostily.

"Not this close to Tashbaan, Aravis," Hwin said. "Your father or Ahoshta might be looking for you by now, and they'll be sure to check the villages around Tashbaan to see if you've passed this way."

I did not argue. As much as I hated it, I could not so much as show my face or speak to anyone from here to the border of Calormen. It had been nearly two weeks since Azim Balda, and by now either my father and Ahoshta were just figuring out that I had deceived them and run, or they had figured it out and were on their way to locate and apprehend me, and to force the marriage. I hoped that when it all came out, Baba wasn't hurt. To be honest, I didn't care if they figured out that the morning Nasreen had slept late was the morning I'd begun my escape and punished her further for it, something I knew was very possible.

The long and short of it was that at least during this part of the journey, I was the liability and Shasta was the useful one. The knowledge of this settled uncomfortably in my stomach. I never liked sitting idle, and that I should be beholden to that boy…

The grass swished, and there he was, clutching a long length of rope in both of his hands. "There was no-one around. Simple, like you said." He swung into the saddle and placed the rope in Bree's saddlebag. "I still didn't like doing it. What if the poor farmer will need that rope when he wakes up today?"

"We need it more," I said. "Come on, then. Bree says he knows a village where you can go buy the clothes for me this afternoon." The horses began to move. Belatedly, I added on. "I am glad you managed to get the rope, Shasta."

He shrugged, apparently still troubled. With some surprise, I realized that that was the first time I had ever called the boy by name.

* * *

><p>When I woke up the following afternoon, Shasta was already gone. I could see the village in the distance. Obviously, he was already getting the clothes for me. Bree was using the time to graze a bit, and Hwin was standing off to the side. I went up to her.<p>

"Hwin," I said. "It seems like ages since we've spoken alone."

She nuzzled my hand. "We have been a bit busy, Tarkheena," she said softly.

"Still," I said. I stood there with her for a moment. "I'm afraid," I said.

"Of all of us, you have the most to lose in this next stage of our journey," she said. "It's not surprising that you're afraid."

"No, not just of that," I said. "Though that is part of it. I have the most to lose, but also the least to gain. After Tashbaan, there is only the desert, and then I am free. But what is to become of me in the North? I'll have given up my rank, my home, and my country, and I will have gained my freedom. So be it. But where shall I live? And with whom? Hwin, what is to become of me?"

Hwin nickered, and her big brown eyes looked right into mine. "I don't know, Aravis. But I'll make sure you are taken care of. You can be certain of that. And you will not be friendless for long. There's Shasta for one thing; he knows nothing more of Narnia and its people than you do. But there will be others. You are beautiful and brave and good, and I am certain you will find many people that love you in Narnia as I do."

I hugged her neck tightly and closed my eyes against the tears. "Thank you," I murmured. "Oh, Hwin, if anyone deserves Narnia among all of us, it's you."

"There now," she said. "Don't fuss. Look, here comes Shasta."

He was coming, and he waved the clothes up above his head triumphantly.

When he was close enough, he tossed them to me. "They ought to fit," he said. "I tried to find the puniest boy clothes I could."

I stuffed them into the saddlebag with the sacks and we looked up at the hills up ahead of us.

"Tashbaan is in the valley just beyond that last hill," I said.

"I do wish we were safely past it," Shasta muttered.

"Oh I do, I do," Hwin agreed.

We came to the top of the last hill just as the first stars were coming out, and the valley below shone brighter than those with the lanterns and lamps down in Tashbaan.

"The jewel of Calormen," Bree said. "The penultimate obstacle between us and the North. After this, only the desert remains."

"I'd rather go through the desert twice," I said under my breath. Then, more loudly, I said. "There's no point going on now; the gates will be barred until morning. We might as well eat supper and try to get some sleep."

"I don't really think I'll be able to sleep," Shasta said, but he got out a hunk of bread and his onion anyway. We ate our meal in silence, and then unsaddled Hwin and Bree. The horses lay down, and we lay down against their sides.

"Try to sleep," Bree said. "I shall wake you all in the morning."

* * *

><p>The stars were still out when Hwin thrust her nose in my face to wake me. But I could see the grey light of dawn beginning over the river mouth.<p>

A lump rose in my stomach as I realized today I would have to go into the lion's den and traverse Tashbaan. Still, I saw no point in delaying. I went over to Hwin's tack and grabbed a single sack and the clothes Shasta had gotten me. As Shasta groaned and sat up as he was similarly woken by Bree, I walked a little ways away.

The morning was chilly in the wood where we were camped atop the ridge. When I had gone far enough into the woods that I knew I would not be seen, I began to take off my armor and the clothes that I'd put under it. Changing in the woods is an uncomfortable thing. The shrubs scratched my bare legs, and the morning air made me shiver. I pulled on the clothes Shasta had gotten me. They did fit well, to my chagrin. I put my armor and its underclothes into the sack. I heard the ripple of running water nearby, and I went to look.

There was a cool stream there, a little, quiet thing. I knelt beside there and drank by a rocky side pool. Then, I put my hands into the mud beside the stream and wincing, rubbed them across my face. I looked into the brown pool in the growing light. I was surprised at what I saw. I looked very different than I had not three weeks ago. Of course, I was dressed in dirty, secondhand peasant's rags, but my hair had gotten longer, too, and there was more. My face itself was thinner, harder, and more determined under the mud. I saw there was a little too much of that, and I adjusted it until the grime on my face looked almost as natural as Shasta's.

I went back to the others then. They had apparently been busy. Hwin and Bree were all dirty- looking over a bit I saw a muddy patch where the grass was all bent and torn up. Several sacks were already tied up, and I realized Shasta must have put up the tack in them. He had also fashioned crude rope halters around Hwin and Bree's heads.

"You do look different, Aravis," he said, when he sighted me.

"Right," said Bree, "are we ready?"

"Our tails," Hwin said. "They're still all cut like noblemen's horses."

"We'll need my scimitar," I said.

"Oh, bother," Shasta said. "I'd already tied it up. No, never mind, I've got it."

He handed me the scimitar when he'd got the pack undone, and I began with Hwin. The scimitar couldn't cut the tails well of course. It was not made for hair, for one thing, but for war. And I could not cut it neatly, either. I had to make sure that the finished product looked like a pair of dull shears had done the job, so I was forced to take it handful by handful, and the result when the hair was cut was a rather pulling sensation.

"Ooh," Hwin said when I got the first bit of hers. "That hurts, Aravis."

"I'm doing the best I can," I said. Bree was more vocal when I got to his.

"My word! If I wasn't a Talking Horse what a lovely kick in the face I could give you! I thought you were going to cut it, not pull it out. That's what it feels like."

"It's a scimitar, not a pair of shears," I retorted. But eventually we were done. I helped Shasta to tie the packs up onto Hwin and Bree then, and we were finally ready to go.

I took the first steps down the hill, and Bree said quietly, "Remember, keep together if we possibly can. If not, meet at the Tombs of the Ancient Kings, and whoever gets there first must wait for the others."

"And remember," Shasta put in, aiming his words at Bree, mostly. "Don't you two horses forget yourselves and start talking, whatever happens."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, particularly the development of Shasta and the Hwin/Aravis conversation towards the end of it. Next chapter, of course, the action begins. I'm particularly going to enjoy writing the scene where Aravis goes from being a (relatively) innocent refugee to a fully conscious traitor a few chapters. But THAT won't be until Chapter 8, I think. Keep reading, friends, and I shall keep writing. Of course, I'll be much more motivated if you leave a review, too.**

**God Bless!**

**L.**


	6. Everything Goes Terribly Wrong

**Disclaimer: Welcome to C.S. Lewis' world! Welcome to his story! Excuse the child playing here, if you will.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Six<p>

It was still very early when we started towards Tashbaan, and the city was shrouded in mist. When the light began to clear, Bree, Hwin, and I all knew what we would see, but Shasta did not. He gasped as he saw the island city, with its towers like jewels in the turban of its hill. Even this early, the city teemed with life. Every inch of that hill was covered in buildings and gardens and palaces and temples, and above all, with people. As I looked on Tashbaan that morning, my chief though was there ahead of me lay thousands of chances to be discovered and stopped and married to the despicable Ahoshta.

Shasta looked a bit different. He was moving slowly, and I heard Bree murmur every now and then for him to get on. For the first time, I felt a bit sorry for that boy. I did not care for Tashbaan, but I had been many times. If fortune was with us, Shasta would go but the once, and he would experience none of the pleasures the city had to offer. I comforted myself with the knowledge that such as Shasta wouldn't have been able to experience the pleasures I was thinking of in any case.

The road we traveled on now was walled; there were gardens on either side. I had been to the one on our right, actually- it belonged to one of the younger princesses. A wind picked up, and the oranges that grew there and the flowers let off an aroma. Shasta breathed it in. "I say, this is a wonderful place!"

"I daresay," whispered Bree, "But I wish we were safely through it and out on the other side. Narnia and the North!"

The horns sounded, and I felt them resound in my bones. I shivered, feeling both fear and an awful familiarity, awful because it was the thing I was afraid of now, and awful because I'd never experience it again.

"That's the horns blowing for the city gates to be open," Bree murmured. "We shall be there in a minute. Now, Aravis, do droop your shoulders a bit and step heavier and try to look less like a princess. Try to imagine you've been kicked and cuffed and called names all your life."

I did as he said, annoyed that I'd had to be reminded, but I couldn't resist hissing back, "If it comes to that, what about you drooping your head a bit more and arching your neck a bit less and trying to look less like a war horse?"

"Hush," Bree said, in the quietest voice he'd used yet. "Here we are."

The walls had opened up, and we saw the great bridge into the city. The light off the river danced strangely on its sides, but of more interest to me were the people. There was a crowd here already going into the city, and as we joined, I felt suddenly very small. I was with the majority here, for the first time in my life. The common masses of unwashed peasants, a nobody. But I was a Tarkheena- or was I anymore?

"Is anything wrong?" I jumped at the voice, and then glared over at Shasta.

"Oh, it's all very well for _you_," I told him. "What would _you_ care about Tashbaan? But I ought to be riding in on a litter with soldiers before me and slaves behind, and perhaps going to a feast in the Tisroc's palace (may he live forever)- not sneaking in like this. It's different for you."

Shasta looked hard at me. Then he sighed and looked away. I think for a moment I saw him actually roll his eyes at me. I kicked at the pavement. Stupid boy.

The gates were already open, and we were nearing the entrance. The walls towered over us, and in the gateway, twelve guards stood leaning on their spears lazily, not worried at all about who was entering. I scowled. If only they'd known! But Bree went a little, an ever-so-little bit faster, pushing Shasta on surreptitiously with his nose, and I followed him leading Hwin.

Then a laugh, a mocking, loud one, sounded, and Shasta made a noise of surprise. I looked over, and a soldier had thrown a carrot at him.

"Hey, Horse-boy! You'll catch it if your master finds you've been using his saddle-horse for pack work."

The colour left Shasta's cheeks, and he called back right away, "It's my master's orders, so there!"

I winced as the guard came over and cuffed the boy. He cried out and fell to one knee. "Take that, you young filth, to teach you how to talk to freemen."

Shasta got up, and led us past the guards. As the crowd closed behind us I got a bit closer to Bree and the boy. "You shouldn't have talked back to him, Shasta, however scared you were," I hissed. "We're _slaves_. We don't speak unless invited to and _never_ pretend we know more than our betters. The freeman is always right."

Shasta sniffed. "I'm sorry if I never learned slave etiquette," he retorted quietly, wiping a tear away with the back of his hand and leaving a muddy streak on his face. An angry red mark was still visible where the guard had hit him. I knew from training that a mark like that would bruise.

"That's why I'm telling you, fool," I said. "Are you all right?"

Shasta shrugged. "I'll be fine. That back there wasn't too bad. Back home Fath…I mean, the fisherman hit me harder than that, sometimes."

The crowd pressed in around us now, beggars and waifs and peasants like we seemed to be on their way to the market. The stench rose around me like never before, because before I had always been lifted up above the masses on a litter and surrounded by perfume. I looked at Bree and Hwin and smiled to myself. At least we didn't look worth stealing from.

Shasta turned left, and I followed him and Bree closely into a wider, nicer street. The hill was steep. I knew here lived some of the wealthier merchants of the city. Just around the corner were some of the established shops, some of which that I had frequented as a Tarkheena back on visits to Tashbaan, or gone to with my friends, at least.

And of course as we went higher and higher in the city, the crowd got worse and worse, and our progress got slower and slower. Because now there were ambassadors and state officials, and Tarkaans and Tarkheenas passing on their litters, and we had to get out of the way and wait until they had passed. It was an uncomfortable thing, firstly because I'd never realized before just how tight the peasants in the crowd were squeezed when the lords and ladies passed. It was like sardines packed into a can! And of course we had to get as close to the wall or the rubbish heap and as far away from the nobles as possible, because they might recognize me, or wonder about Bree and Shasta and actually stop to do something about it.

We began to pass the palaces now, and some of the minor temples. We passed great statues I had seen about a dozen times, and fountains I had splashed in as a child. My stomach was burning. Every moment I feared that someone would come around the corner and call out "Aravis, what have you been doing? Come home at once, you ungrateful child. Your father has been worried sick, and you've shamed the honourable Ahoshta Tarkaan. The poets say…" I closed my eyes nervously, and stuck close to Bree.

It was midday now, and we were almost halfway through the city when the trouble came. The criers came, and we were almost directly in the middle of the street.

"Way! Way! Way," they cried. "Way for the White Barbarian King, the guest of the Tisroc (may he live forever)! Way for the Narnian lords!"

Shasta was of course ahead of me, and he tried to get out of the way. He really did. But there was this woman just to the side, and when he tried to back Bree, she shoved him hard with her basket of linens, and he stumbled into someone else. The someone else shoved him again, and he lost hold of Bree. I darted forward, of course, and grabbed Bree's halter, but the crowd had got Shasta. I backed up a few rows, but in the end, Shasta was quite stuck in the very front. He was not five feet from the rest of us, but of course, we could not get to him and he could not get to us until after the Narnian lords had passed.

I saw them, the Narnian lords, as they came up the street. They were walking, dressed in fine tunics of lovely colours like red and forest green and sapphire blue, but they wore no jewels save those in the dainty circlets or winged helmets on some of their heads. Their swords were straight and shining. They brought no slaves, and whistled and laughed and joked as they went along, completely sufficient and happy in themselves, strong and gay but not at all proud. My heart turned over for a moment, but then it nearly stopped. For the tall, dark-haired, fair-faced man that led the others gave a cry and looked at _Shasta_, of all people.

Over the crowd, I could just make out his voice. "There he is! There's our runaway!" Then he seized Shasta by the shoulder and slapped him like one slaps an errant child.

Shasta looked back wildly at Bree, but the horses of course, could not say anything, though I felt them both tremble in horror. I could not say anything, nor call attention to myself. My eyes were rooted to the scene. And Shasta tore his eyes away quickly before he looked at me. I saw his face, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. And I saw the moment he decided not to say anything, even to get back to us. His jaw set, and he looked back at the Narnian King.

His hands were taken, one on either side, and the entire party marched off with him. I swallowed, suddenly far more afraid than I had been before, and began to move towards the northern gate again. But I did not get that far, because the criers came again. "Way! Way! Way! Way for the Tarkheena Lasaraleen!" I froze.

Lasaraleen's family had been friends with my family, and the two of us had often met. She was a year or so older than me, and I had heard that she had lately married well. Now she lived here in Tashbaan, and was on very good terms with the royals, or so it was rumoured. She was well-attended by slaves, and I looked up to see her.

But she looked at me. And she recognized me. Of course she recognized me, dirt and all. How many times had the two of us played dress-up together? She cried out, "Aravis! What on earth are you doing here? Your father-"

I did not know what to do, but something must be done, so I let go of the horses and jumped up onto the litter with Lasaraleen. I heard the slaves grunt beneath us. I did not care. I whispered. "Shut up! Do you hear? Shut up! You must hide me. Tell your people-"

"But darling," Lasaraleen began dramatically. Oh, I knew if she had her way all of Tashbaan would know how she found me dressed as a peasant in Tashbaan.

I cut her off. "Do what I tell you or I'll never speak to you again!" I said urgently. "Please, please be quick, Las. It's frightfully important. Tell your people to bring those two horses along. Pull all the curtains of the litter and get away somewhere where I can't be found. And do _hurry_!"

Lasaraleen waved a lazy hand. "All right, darling," she said. She looked over to two of the slaves beside the litter. "Here. Two of you take the Tarkheena's horses."

As soon as I heard her say that and saw two of them get Bree and Hwin, I drew the curtains. The perfume and the two of us all boxed up together in it made it rather disagreeable, but it couldn't be helped.

Las didn't like it though. "I say, darling, do you think we really want the curtains drawn on a day like this? I mean to say-"

I cut her off again. "I mustn't be seen," I told her. "My father doesn't know I'm here. I'm running away."

Lasaraleen was looking at her dress. "My dear, how perfectly thrilling. I'm dying to hear all about it. Darling, you're sitting on my dress. Do you mind?"

I edged off of the dress, annoyed, perched like a bird on the very edge of the litter. Lasaraleen smiled brightly in the darkness. "That's better. It is a new one. Do you like it? I got it at-"

"Oh, Las, do be serious! Where is my father?"

"Didn't you know?" Lasaraleen asked, surprised. "He's here, of course. He came to town yesterday and is asking about you everywhere." And to think," she giggled. "Of you and me being her together," she giggled again, "And his not knowing anything about it!" She giggled some more. "It's the funniest thing I ever heard!"

For a while she just giggled, and I remembered now why I was always so glad when the parties we went to with Lasaraleen were over. "It isn't funny at all," I said. "It's dreadfully serious! Where can you hide me?"

Lasaraleen waved a hand again. "No difficulty at all, my dear girl. I'll take you home. My husband's away and no one will see you." She brought up a fan and fanned herself. "Phew! It's not much fun with the curtains drawn. I want to see people. There's no point in having a new dress on if one's to go about shut up like this."

I ignored her complaint, wondering where we were in the city. "I hope no one heard you when you shouted out to me like that."

"No, no, of course, darling. But you haven't even told me yet what you think of the dress."

As if I could see it in the darkened litter. I rolled my eyes. "Another thing," I told Las. "You must tell your people to treat those two horses very respectfully. That's part of the secret. They're really Talking Horses from Narnia."  
>"Fancy!" Las said, sounding intrigued. "How exciting!" But then she appeared to think of something else, for she went on, "And, oh, darling, have you seen the barbarian queen from Narnia? She's staying in Tashbaan at present. They say Prince Rabadash is madly in love with her. There have been the most wonderful parties and hunts and things all this last fortnight. I can't see that she's so pretty myself. But some of the Narnian <em>men<em> are lovely. I was taken out on a river party the day before yesterday, and I was wearing my-"

I brought her back to topic. "How shall we prevent your people telling everyone that you've got a visitor- dressed like a beggar's brat- in your house? It might so easily get round to my father."

"Now don't keep fussing, there's a dear," Lasaraleen said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "We'll get you some proper clothes in a moment." I sighed in exasperation. "And here we are," Lasaraleen said, as the litter was being lowered.

We were in a courtyard of some palace here in the city- Lasaraleen's, I corrected myself. Lasaraleen made to go in, but I reminded her, "Oh, Las, you can't! The slaves will talk! You must say something to them!"

Las giggled. "Sorry, darling, it had gone right out of my head. Here. All of you. And you, doorkeeper," she said to the servants and slaves. "No one is to be let out of the house today. And anyone I catch talking about this young lady will be first beaten to death and then burned alive and after that kept on bread and water for six weeks. There."

I smiled. Even though no one could live through all that, it should be a good deterrent. Lasaraleen motioned for Bree and Hwin to be taken away. I waved to them, and followed Lasaraleen inside.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah. Not my favourite chapter to write. I do hope you enjoyed it, though. The action's picking up, though! Leave a review! Please and thank you!**

**God Bless,**

**L.M. Sharp**


	7. Making New Plans and Sticking To Them

**Disclaimer: You can skip this. It's put here for legal and artistic conscientious reasons, and besides, it hurts me to write once again that this brilliant story does not belong to me.**

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><p>Chapter Seven<p>

Lasaraleen wouldn't even begin to discuss anything with me until I'd had a bath. "No, dear, I'm certain we can't think of talking about it until you're all clean and comfortable. Then you'll be much happier, won't you, and dear, you will certainly smell better." She had me whisked away to an enormous marble tub, and I won't say it was not absolutely lovely to soak in the steaming, perfumed milk and water and just see the filth of my journey stream away in the circulating water, but the entire time I couldn't help thinking of how the horses and I were to get to the tombs now, or how Shasta was going to manage it.

After I took the bath, I tried to get Las to talk again. She had me led to her chambers in a perfumed bathrobe, and I started at once. "Las, we must find some way to…"

"Not now, darling, you're hardly dressed. Come here. We'll find you something proper to wear in no time at all," Lasaraleen said, as if I was fussing about that.

"Where'd you put the clothes I had on?"

"Those old things? I had them burned. Really, my dear girl, I don't know how you could bear it. I'm sure I'm dying to hear all about why you were wearing them in the first place," she giggled. "It must have been a splendid joke. But here," she opened her wardrobe. It fairly burst with silks and brocades and satins in bright, beautiful colours. "Do you think this dress or that? I think you're about my size in the waist- shorter, of course, darling, but we can't all be blessed with height. Maybe the blue sateen?" She giggled again. "Oh, this is such fun! My dear Aravis, I haven't had anyone to fuss over for months together! I've been bereft, simply bereft!"

"Be that as it may, Las, we really must talk about how I'm to get out of the city," I insisted.

"Oh, yes dear, of course, but do you think the blue will suit your skin better than the pink?"

"I can't imagine I'll be going anywhere where I shall need to impress anyone," I said. "Las, please."

Lasaraleen still focused on the two dresses she held up, looking from me to them distractedly. "Dear, you can't imagine the importance of wearing the right clothes. They can make or break your reputation in the eyes of others. Now, we're going to get you dressed properly. I'm sure…fairly sure, that this orange brocade will fit you beautifully, and suit you to perfection. I wore it the day I found out I was to be married to my husband, you know, so maybe a year or so back, when I was shorter."

I sighed, and put on the clothes. They felt lovely, and I felt much more Aravis Tarkheena than I had felt in several weeks, but I also couldn't imagine sneaking out to the Tombs of the Ancient Kings dressed like this.

"Oh, darling, you do look fine," Las said approvingly, and I remembered why I put up with her. As much as Lasaraleen liked compliments and gossip, she was never stingy with giving compliments and doing favors.

"Yes, and I'm sure I'm very grateful, but Las, can we talk about how I'm to get out of here?"

"Oh, dear, don't go on like that," she said. "We simply must eat something, first. You must be famished. I know I am. Did I tell you, darling? I went to this party with the Tarkaan…"

And she went into yet another story that had absolutely nothing to do with what was vitally important at the moment. She served me a lovely, if insubstantial meal of candied fruits and fruity jellies and iced sorbets, and finally, when she had quite finished eating and telling me about the Tarkaan Thrandir's affair with his wife's chief slave and her nasty monkey Cutesy was swinging about throwing raisins at the servant girl ("Isn't he adorable?" Lasaraleen giggled), she asked, "Why are you running away, darling?"

And finally, I was able to tell her what I had been trying to for hours. And when I was finished, Las looked at me in utter confusion and asked, "But, darling, why don't you marry Ahoshta Tarkaan? Everyone's crazy about him. My husband says he is beginning to be one of the greatest men in Calormen. He has just been made Grand Vizier now old Axartha has died. Didn't you know?"

I didn't know. "I don't care," I said. "I can't stand the sight of him."

"But, darling, only think! Three palaces, and one of them that beautiful one down on the lake at Ilkeen. Positively ropes of pearls, I'm told. Baths of asses' milk. And you'd see such a lot of _me_."

"He can keep his pearls and palaces as far as I'm concerned," I muttered.

"You always _were_ a queer girl, Aravis. What more _do_ you want?"

I leaned forward and took her by the hands. "I want to be able to marry whomever I like whenever I feel like doing so and not a moment before," I said. "I want to be able to run and laugh and sing and say whatever I feel like saying just because I feel like saying it without worrying what people will say of me or if the Tisroc (may he live forever) is going to execute me for rudeness. Call me queer, by Tash, call me a barbarian, even, but I want to be free, Lasaraleen."

Lasaraleen looked at me for a moment. "I must say, I don't understand you in the least, Aravis," she said at last. "But I do believe you. What can I do to help?"

I pressed my head to her hands. "Oh, Las, thank you, thank you! I need to get the horses and myself out the gates and to the Tombs of the Ancient Kings. That's where we're to meet Shasta, see."

"Among the ghouls and all? How creepy! I shouldn't be able to stand it. Oh, darling, have I told you? Kalina Tarkheena had the most ghastly party last month- it was a masque-"

"Las, keep to the point," I said.

"Oh, of course, dear. The horses will be no trouble at all. I'll simply have a groom walk your two horses out of the gate and to the tombs. No one will ask any questions. It's easy as anything."

"But what about me?"

"Yes, that is a bit more of a challenge," Las admitted.

"You could have the slaves carry me out behind them in the litter with the curtains drawn," I said.

Lasaraleen giggled, "Oh, no, my dear girl, that would never do. Litters aren't used outside of the city, you see. If anyone saw one going out of the gate, they'd be sure to remember it, or even to ask questions. You'd be caught."

"Is there any other way I could get out?" I asked.

It took a long time, because Lasaraleen kept wanting to talk about pranks she had planned and how so-and-so had run off with such-and-such and what fun this all was, but eventually we did come up with a viable suggestion.

"There is _one_ way of getting out of the city without using the gates," Lasaraleen said, "The Tisroc's garden (may he live forever!) runs right down to the water and there is a little water-door. Only for the palace people of course- but then you know, dear," she giggled, "we almost _are_ palace people. I say, it is lucky for you that you came to _me_. The dear Tisroc (may he live forever!) is _so _kind. E're asked to the palace almost every day and it is like a second home. I love all the dear princes and princesses and I positively _adore_ Prince Rabadash. I might run in and see any of the palace ladies at any hour of the day or night. Why shouldn't I slip in with you, after dark, and let you out by the water-door? There are always a few punts and things tied up outside of it. And even if we are caught-"

"All would be lost," I interrupted.

"Oh darling, don't get so excited," Lasaraleen laughed. "I was going to say, even if we were caught everyone would only say it was one of my mad jokes. I'm getting quite well known for them. Only the other day- do listen, dear, this is frightfully funny-"

I closed my eyes. "I meant, all would be lost _for me_," I snapped, beginning to lose my patience.

Las frowned. "Oh-ah-yes- I _do_ see what you mean, darling. Well, can you think of any better plan?"

I couldn't. Indeed, I thought Lasaraleen's plan was a good deal better than the plan Hwin had come up with, though we couldn't have hoped to execute it before. I sighed. "No. We'll have to risk it. When can we start?"

"Oh, not tonight," Lasaraleen said. "Of course not tonight. There's a great feast on tonight (I must start getting my hair done for it in a few minutes) and the whole place will be a blaze of lights. And such a crowd, too! It would have to be tomorrow night."

I frowned, but of course it couldn't be helped, and I was obliged to listen to Lasaraleen go on about how she was doing her hair, and how she'd done it last week, and who would be at the feast tonight, and who she'd dance and talk and gossip with. Frankly, I was relieved when she left.

I went straight to the guest room Las had had prepared for me. I plopped down on the bed, letting out a little moan of appreciation for the mattress and pillow beneath me after weeks of hard ground. I stared at the ceiling. I was exhausted. So much had changed today. Shasta was captured-pretty obviously mistaken for someone important to the Narnian nobles- and I wondered how he was getting on.

Would he talk his way out of it? Convince the Narnians he was not who they thought he was and get them to let him go? Would he just wait until he had the chance and run for it? He wouldn't have a problem sneaking out of the northern gate- no one cared what a lone peasant boy did. For a second I envied him. Then I remembered what I had learned of him that day. He'd grown up being hit and Bree's story had revealed that the man Shasta still called Father had been quite ready to sell him into slavery for a few crescents. I remembered how indifferent he'd been to the bruising blow the guard at the gate had dealt him. I wondered what this boy had ever known of love or friendship before Bree had whisked him away from that miserable fisherman's hovel.

Then an unpleasant thought occurred to me. What if Shasta came clean to the Narnians about who he was and what he was doing and they took pity on him and took him away to Narnia with him without us? They had seemed so nice, the Narnian lords. It would take very little effort on their part to simply carry him off, and what incentive had he to keep his word to us? Had Shasta ever had anyone to be kind to him, to love him or to want good things for him? Anyone to tell him he was unique and wonderful, whether he was or not? I certainly hadn't been a friend to him. I thought of Bree. Bree was not unkind to the boy, but neither had I ever seen him try to build Shasta up. Indeed, he seemed rather to laugh at the boy's faults. I wondered if I, in Shasta's place, would keep my word.

Then I sighed. He'd come. The boy was so simplemindedly decent. It probably wouldn't even occur to him that he could skip a step and go straight to Narnia with the Narnians now. My thoughts turned to my escape. Truth be told, if I'd had my choice, I wouldn't trust my escape to Lasaraleen. She was even vainer and sillier than I remembered, and if she forgot how we needed to be careful during our escape! It didn't bear thinking of. Still, I knew that the later I stayed up worrying about this, the less I'd get to enjoy this bed- probably the last time I'd sleep in one for a while. So I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and slept.

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><p>Las had breakfast brought to me in bed the next morning- eggs and bread and oil and a lovely cup of pomegranate juice. I ate it with relish, and dressed in the clothes she'd had left out for me- meant to make me look like a slave girl, not a menial one, but a proper lady's maid. We'd agreed that if anyone asked questions on our way to the gardens, she'd simply claim I was a present for one of the princesses.<p>

I found her in her chambers powdering her nose. She looked at me. "Darling, good morning. I must say, though, the slave's get-up doesn't suit you at all. Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this tonight? Rashti Tarkheena is having a garden party tonight. You could go with me. We could pretend the whole thing was some mad joke, a last bit of whimsy before you married. You'd be the nine days' wonder, dear, and you'd have everything. Don't you see it makes so much more sense than this insane plan to go to Narnia?"

"No, I don't, Las," I said. "Please, you promised."

"But Narnia, darling! Haven't you heard the stories? It is all snow and ice up there, always winter and no holiday, only imagine! They say a terrible sorceress runs it all, and there are demons! How do you know these horses of yours aren't demons, after all?"

"They aren't, Las. They're my friends, and have as much personhood as you or I," I said. "And Hwin said that there was a witch once, but that the kings and queens that live there now got rid of her. And now she says it's gorgeous, all green and wooded and merry. And it's a free land, Las. You must, you really must help me get there."

"Yes, dear, but how do you know? You haven't been there. Only think, Aravis. Think about what you are giving up! The parties, the friends! Aravis, you mightn't ever see me again! Or Rashti or Darleen…or your own father and brother! How can you? Really, how can you?"

"Quite easily, actually," I said, holding her gaze. "I shan't be treated like a pretty decoration to be sold and bought. I shan't curtsey prettily when I feel like running and fear disgrace or execution if I don't. "

But she kept on about it all day. For the most part I kept my temper, but her endless prattling about the clothes I'd never see again and the gifts from the royals I would not receive wore on my nerves.

Around four o'clock she tried a different tack. "Dear, think of what you can do there? Who will you know? You're going with a peasant boy, too! It's not Nice!"

_Shasta's more fun than you are,_ I almost said. "You forget that I'll be nobody, just like him, when we get to Narnia. And anyway, I promised." I looked levelly at her. That was the one thing I was known for amongst my friends. I was the one girl you could always trust to keep her promises, no matter how inconvenient or uncomfortable it became. I silently dared Las now to do less. She looked down, and tears came to her dark, long-lashed eyes.

"And to think, that if only you had sense you could be the wife of a Grand Vizier!"

I grabbed her hand then. "But I haven't. You know I haven't. Thank you for putting up with me anyway. I'm going to see that the horses are ready to leave with your groom in a few hours."

Las waved me away miserably.

I went gladly. When I reached the stables I went to Hwin first. "We're getting out of here tonight, Hwin. The groom has orders to unpack you, groom you, and saddle and bridle you again. He'll fill your saddlebags with food, and lead you and Bree to the tombs to wait for me."

"How are you getting there?" Hwin asked quietly.

"Lasaraleen promised to help me out through the Tisroc's (may he live forever) water-gate. I'll take a punt and go out on the river. Oh, Hwin, I will be glad to see the back of this place."

"Isn't that Tarkheena a friend of yours, though?" Hwin asked doubtfully.

"She is, oh, she is, and she's a good one, for all that she's a little…" I hesitated. "all right, she's very silly. She's being very good to us, and part of me will be sorry to leave her. But I won't be sorry to leave this world, or this city." I shrugged. "I always hated Tashbaan."

"I remember." Hwin said. "Do be careful, Aravis. I want you safe and sound at the tombs. Do you think Shasta will be there?"

"If he is not, we shall wait for him."

"Good," Hwin said. "I like him. I like to talk to him in the evenings sometimes. I'd been telling him a bit about the Tarkaans and Tarkheenas I've seen, and the places you've taken me. He always likes to hear, and he's always so thankful. I do hope he's doing all right, too."

Now, I had noticed that Hwin talked more in the evenings, and mostly to Shasta. And I'd noticed that the boy was more at ease with my horse than he was with me. To know that Hwin had deliberately been talking to him when she'd been so shy with Bree and I irked me somehow."Is that what you two talk about in the evenings?" I demanded. "Whatever for?"

Hwin looked straight at me. "I thought he might like to be included," she said simply. I opened my mouth, and closed it again. Then I smiled a bit.

I patted her on the neck. "See you in a few hours," I said.

"Please."

I went to Bree next. His ears came up attentively when he saw me. "You must go with a groom a little before sunset down to the Tombs," I told him. "No more of those packs. You'll be saddled and bridled again. But there'll have to be food in Hwin's saddle-bags and a full water-skin behind yours, Bree. The man has orders to let you both have a good long drink at the far side of the bridge."

Bree stamped his back hoof. "And then, Narnia and the North!" he said. "But what if Shasta is not at the Tombs?" His ears twitched, and I heard real anxiety for his friend in his voice.

"Wait for him of course," I said, and patted his neck. "I hope you've been quite comfortable."

"Never better stabled in my life," Bree assured me. "But if the husband of that tittering Tarkheena friend of yours is paying his head groom to get the best oats, then I think the head groom is cheating him."

"I'll ask Las," I said. "It won't make much difference to you, but it might make a difference to her husband's pocketbook, or to these other horses. I'll meet you at the tombs later tonight."

Bree nodded slightly as the groom charged with him and with Hwin came around the corner. "Make sure these two are thoroughly groomed and outfitted in the manner in which you have been instructed," I said. "It is of utmost importance. I will see that your mistress knows if you fail in any respect."

"To hear is to obey," he responded, with a bow.

By then it was time for supper, and I returned to Lasaraleen in the pillared room in which we had dined the day before. She was quiet for her, and she did not try to dissuade me from my purpose again. She spoke now of our childhood meetings and quarrels, of how we had grown up differently, and things we both had loved.

"You remember, darling, the fountain at Mezreel? I had on a new dress, that pink-and-orange floral silk. You were dressed in some old clothes of Kadmel's (on whom be the peace of the gods). We got into that quarrel over that…"

"Over who was to play first on the new harp that Tarkaan Ilomesh had brought in that day, yes," I said. One of the only things Las and I had in common was our love of music.

"I called you…oh, well, horrid things, and you…" She laughed, a softer laugh than her usual high-pitched titter. "You pushed me into the fountain. You ruined my new dress, and said it served me right. I pulled you in after me, and when your mother (on whom be the peace of the gods) came to see what had began all the fuss," Las sighed. "You said that you had pushed me into the fountain, and said nothing at all about all the things I had done to provoke you." She looked at me. "It was a very queer thing to do. You got into awful trouble. You had to listen to your father's lectures and poetry about proper behaviour for the next hour, and were made to give up your own money to pay for the dress besides, and I was not punished. Still you never said, and never mentioned it again. Darling, that, and other things, I never forgot. You were always so brave." She grabbed my hand. "Darling, I don't know if I'll ever see you again after tonight. I've not the slightest notion why you want to go spend the rest of your life with barbarians and demons and all with a peasant boy. I daresay you'll be absolutely miserable. I know I would be. And queer as you are, I'm going to miss you terribly. Aravis, really, must you?"

I was silent for a long time. "Las," I said. "I'll miss you, and my father, and Hashafed…of course I will. But I really must go. I promised, and Las, you know this life, and your dresses and parties aren't really for me." I looked off out the wide window, towards the north, over past the buildings of Tashbaan where I knew the desert waited. "So maybe it makes me queer, and maybe even a barbarian." I shrugged. "So be it."

Las looked into my face for a long moment. Then she nodded. "All right then," she said. "Then let's go."

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><p><strong>AN: I actually enjoyed writing this chapter more than I thought I would, though I'm afraid I've bought my enjoyment at the cost of some of Lasaraleen's ditziness. Still, there WAS the fact that she didn't tell anyone, hid and sheltered and even smuggled Aravis out of the country working in her favour. There has to be some affection and some real loyalty behind that, not just thoughtless compliance or a mischievous nature. So I shan't apologize if Las is OOC. I think I've been true to the spirit of her actions, at least. Leave a review telling me what you think, even if you hate it! It'll help me to get better.**

**God Bless,**

**L.M. Sharp**


	8. Accidental Eavesdropping

**Disclaimer: Pretty much all you see below belongs to C.S. Lewis. In fact, you might as well read the book for this chapter.**

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><p>Chapter Eight<p>

I cannot say that we slunk and sneaked into the palace, though it would be more dramatic if I could. Indeed, it was too easy with Lasaraleen as my guide to gain entrance to the Tisroc's palace. She strode in as if she expected the statues ornamenting the palace to bow down before her, and the guards indeed, saluted her with a low bow. There were few Tarkaans and Tarkheenas, slaves and messengers still lingering about in the first Hall- the Hall of Black Marble, but they were there. Those we passed either did not look at us twice, or gave a cordial bow and a nod and let us pass and went about their own business.

The Tisroc's palace was magnificent of course. Save the Temple of Tash at the summit of the city, I would say still it is the most splendid place I had ever been. Perfumes floated by on the air. The marble and rugs beneath our feet were of the finest quality. As we passed through the Hall of Pillars and into the Hall of Statues, the numerous bejeweled and gilded statues of Tisrocs and gods and great heroes of Calormen looked down impassively at us from their numerous alcoves. But I could not enjoy any of it. The entire time my stomach was a mass of knots. Lasaraleen, too, was nervous. She was silent, and tension could be seen in every line of her body.

When we finally came out into the garden of the Old Palace, there was no one about anymore. But I could not relax. We entered, and these corridors were unfamiliar, and ill-lit, so that the torches cast strange shadows on the walls and it seemed my father could spring out at any moment.

Just then Lasaraleen stopped at a place where the corridor we were in ran into another, and we had to choose right or left. "Go on, do go on," I whispered nervously.

"I'm just wondering…" Las said quite calmly, "I'm not absolutely sure which way we go from here. I _think_ it's the left. Yes, I'm almost sure it's the left. What fun this is!" I could not see how this was fun in any way, but I supposed Las felt now as if she were here playing one of her jokes.

The passage she had chosen was even darker than the previous, but as we headed down a set of steps, she said, "It's all right. I'm sure we're right now. I remember these steps."

But then she fell deadly silent, and her hand went to my arm. A light had appeared ahead, moving slowly. I trembled, and I saw two dark shapes turn a corner, carrying candles and walking backwards. Las' grip on my arm became painful, and she began to urge me back up the steps, slowly but not too slowly, so as our movement should not be seen.

She was feeling the wall, and she stopped. "Here's a door," she hissed. "Quick!"

She didn't need to tell me twice. I wondered why she was so afraid of the Tisroc, as she claimed he was so kind, but I needed no one to tell me to stay away from him. My father could make me marry Ahoshta. The Tisroc could boil me in oil should the whim strike him, and then hand me over to Ahoshta to be married anyway. We closed the door behind us, and the room was plunged into total darkness.

"Tash preserve us," gasped Lasaraleen, still gripping my arm. "What _shall_ we do if he comes in here? Can we hide?"

The darkness made her voice all the louder. I felt the carpet under my feet much better than if the room had been well-lit. I helped Lasaraleen to grope around the room, and quickly we found a sofa set next to the curtained wall of the room.

"Let's lie down behind it," Las said. "Oh, I _do _wish we hadn't come."

Lasaraleen managed to scramble into the space behind the sofa first, and of course when she was completely behind it there was not room for me to hide completely. I pushed at her; if the Tisroc came in and saw me I might as well be dead. But Las would have none of it; she was, though she had not nearly as much to fear, far more frightened than I was. I ended up so that I could feel my forehead and half of my nose sticking out past the end of the sofa.

We were still. For a long moment nothing happened.

"Is it safe?" I breathed out finally.

"I…I…_think_ so," began Lasaraleen, speaking just as softly. "But my poor nerves…"

But she cut off, and gripped my heel tightly. For the door was opening. Light came through it, and I saw. I was a pair of eyes peeping out behind the sofa, and yet I felt so terribly exposed.

The men carrying the candles were slaves. They walked backward, and I guessed they were deaf and dumb, used at the most secret counsels. Why else should the Tisroc be up late at night in a part of the palace which no one ever went to? I could not see where the one went, but the other stood right in front of me, taking up watch at the end of the sofa. I guessed the other had gone around to Las' end. I felt a bit more secure, because, of course, the slave was not looking at me walking backwards as he was, nor did I think he could hear the breaths I hardly dared to take. And now as he stood at the end of the sofa in front of me, I was reasonably confident that no one would see me. No one looks at a slave, and his heels would obscure the bit of my face that poked out.

In walked the Tisroc, his entire fat body covered with rich fabric and jewels, and wearing a little pointed cap. He looked very expensive, but I thought back to the other ruler I had seen just the day before- the Narnian King- in his simple clothes and single thin coronet. He, in his simplicity, had looked more commanding and a good deal nicer than this my own Tisroc. After the Tisroc came a tall man in a rich turban, wearing a scimitar. He looked very anxious. His eyes were darting about feverishly, and for a second I worried he'd see me, but they seemed to be comprehending nothing. Finally, I saw one of the last men in the world I wanted to see, and shuddered. For the last person through the door was unmistakable with his wrinkles and hunched back. It was Ahoshta Tarkaan, Grand Vizier, the very man I had done all I had done to escape.

The Tisroc sat down upon the very sofa behind which we were crouched, and I heard it creak. The young man, whom I knew to be Prince Rabadash, stood a ways back. I could see him. And Ahoshta Tarkaan fell down upon his face before the Tarkaan in an awful mockery of humility and honour.

Rabadash began in much the same tone I had used before when very annoyed with my father. "Oh-my-father-and-oh-the-delight-of-my-eyes," he mumbled quickly, as if wanting to get it over with. "May you live forever, but you have utterly destroyed me." He began to pace. "If you had given me the swiftest of the galleys at sunrise when I first saw that the ship of the accursed barbarians was gone from her place I would perhaps have overtaken them. But you persuaded me to send first and see if they had not merely moved round the point into better anchorage. And they are gone- gone- out of my reach! The false jade, the…" he began to rant. I thought very quickly. Las had said something about Rabadash being smitten with Queen Susan of Narnia. Apparently, she and all those who had come with her had fled during the night. I wondered if Shasta had gone with them, and my stomach turned over.

After Rabadash had been cursing the queen for a good two minutes, the sofa rumbled, and I heard the Tisroc say, "Compose yourself, O my son. For the departure of guests makes a wound that is easily healed in the heart of a judicious host."

The prince's eyes flashed. "But I want her!" he cried. "I must have her. I shall die if I do not get her- false, proud, black-hearted daughter of a dog that she is! I cannot sleep and my food has no savour and my eyes are darkened because of her beauty. I must have the barbarian queen."

I rolled my eyes. It sounded to me like Queen Susan had done well to run back home.

Ahoshta raised his face, and I noted with pleasure it was dusty from the abject position he'd been maintaining on the unused carpet. "How well it was said by a gifted poet," he croaked," That deep drafts from the fountain of reason are desirable in order to extinguish the fire of youthful love."

"Dog!" cried the prince, kicking the Vizier in the behind several times. "Do not dare to quote the poets to me. I have had maxims and verses flung at me all day and I can endure them no more."

I watched the proceeding with interest, wondering how much longer Rabadash would kick Ahoshta Tarkaan. Eventually, the Tisroc seemed to notice, for he said calmly, "My son, by all means desist from kicking the venerable and enlightened Vizier: for as a costly jewel retains its value even if hidden in a dung-hill, so old age and discretion are to be respected even in the vile persons of our subjects. Desist therefore, and tell us therefore what you desire and propose."

Now, I could not argue that Ahoshta was vile, but I did think it rather mean of the Tisroc to imply that all of his subjects were vile. But the Prince was talking. He proposed that the Tisroc call out the army and destroy Narnia, killing all of Queen Susan's family, adding Narnia to the Calormene empire, and saving the lady herself for Rabadash's wife. I began to shake, but the Tisroc said,

"Understand, O my son, that no words you can speak will move me to open war against Narnia."

"If you were not my father, O ever-living Tisroc," said the prince through gritted teeth, "I should say that was the word of a coward."

The Tisroc's voice came cold and calm. "And if you were not my son, O most inflammable Rabadash, your life would be short and your death slow when you had said it." He said the words slowly, and it made me shiver all over again.

"But why, O my father," said Rabadash after a long silence. "Why should we think twice about punishing Narnia any more than about hanging an idle slave or sending a worn-out horse to be made into dog's-meat? It is not the fourth size of one of your least provinces. A thousand spears could conquer it in five weeks. It is an unseemly blot on the skirts of your empire."

"Most undoubtedly," agreed the Tisroc. "These little barbarian countries that call themselves _free _(which is as much to say, idle, disordered, and unprofitable) are hateful to the gods and to all persons of discernment."

"Know, O enlightened Prince," said the ape from his position at the Prince's feet, "That until the year in which your exalted father began his salutary and unending reign, the land of Narnia was covered with ice and snow and was moreover ruled by a most powerful enchantress."

"This I know very well, O loquacious Vizier," said Rabadash impatiently. "But I also know that the enchantress is dead. And the ice and snow have vanished, so that Narnia is now wholesome, fruitful, and delicious."

Ahoshta assumed what he must have thought to be a kindly expression, but in fact came across more as a grimace. "And this change, O most learned Prince, has doubtless been brought to pass by the powerful incantations of those wicked persons who now call themselves kings and queens of Narnia."

"I am rather of the opinion," said Rabadash in a lordly tone, "That it has come about by the alteration of the stars and the operation of natural causes."

"All this," interrupted the Tisroc, "is a question for the disputations of learned men. I will never believe that so great an alteration, and the killing of the old enchantress, were effected without the aid of strong magic. And such things are to be expected in that land, which is chiefly inhabited by demons in the shape of beasts that talk like men, and monsters that are half man and half beast. It is commonly reported that the High King of Narnia (whom may the gods utterly reject) is supported by a demon of hideous aspect and irresistible maleficence who appears in the shape of a Lion. Therefore the attacking of Narnia is a dark and doubtful enterprise, and I am determined not to put my hand out further than I can draw it back."

"How blessed is Calormen," began the Vizier fawningly, and I grimaced. "on whose ruler the gods have been pleased to bestow prudence and circumspection! Yet as the irrefutable and sapient Tisroc has said it is very grievous to be constrained to keep our hands off such a dainty dish as Narnia. Gifted was that poet who said-"He stopped suddenly. At first I did not realize why, but then I noticed Rabadash had moved, as if to kick Ahoshta again.

"It is very grievous," the sofa rumbled. "Every morning the sun is darkened in my eyes, and every night my sleep is the less refreshing, because I remember that Narnia is still free."

"O my father," began Rabadash, "How if I show you a way by which you can stretch out your arm to take Narnia and yet draw it back unharmed if the attempt prove unfortunate?"

I began to listen all the more intently, though my muscles were beginning to cramp.

"If you can show me that, O Rabadash, you will be the best of sons," said the Tisroc.

Rabadash's eyes flashed in the candlelight. "Hear then, O father," he began. "This very night and in this hour I will take but two hundred horse and ride across the desert. And it shall seem to all men that you know nothing of my going. On the second morning I shall be at the gates of King Lune's castle of Anvard in Archenland. They are at peace with us and unprepared and I shall take Anvard before they have bestirred themselves. Then I will ride through the pass above Anvard and down through Narnia to Cair Paravel. The High King will not be there; when I left them he was already preparing a raid against the giants on his northern order. I shall find Cair Paravel, most likely with open gates, and ride in. I shall exercise prudence and courtesy and spill as little Narnian blood as I can. And what then remains but to sit there till the _Splendour Hyaline_ puts in, with Queen Susan on board, catch my strayed bird as she sets foot ashore, swing her into the saddle, and then ride, ride, ride back to Anvard?"

"But is it not probable, O my son, that at the taking of the woman either King Edmund or you will lose his life?" asked the Tisroc.

"They will be a small company," said Rabadash carelessly. "And I will order ten of my men to disarm and bind him: restraining my vehement desire for his blood so that there shall be no deadly cause of war between you and the High King."

"And how if the _Splendour Hyaline_ is at Cair Paravel before you?"

"I do not look for that with these winds, O my father."

"And lastly, O my resourceful son," said the Tisroc dryly, "you have made clear how all this might give you the barbarian woman, but not how it helps me to the overthrowing of Narnia."

"O my father, can it have escaped you that though I and my horsemen will come and go through Narnia like an arrow from a bow, yet we shall have Anvard forever? And when you hold Anvard you sit in the very gate of Narnia, and your garrison in Anvard can be increased by little and little till it is a great host."

"It is spoken with understanding and foresight," said the Tisroc, apparently pleased by this dreadful scheme. "But how do I draw back my arm if all this miscarries?"

"You shall say that I did it without your knowledge and against your will, and without your blessing, being constrained by the violence of my love and the impetuosity of youth."

"And how if the High King then demands that we send back the barbarian woman, his sister?"

Rabadash smirked, and I despised him. "O my father, be assured that he will not. For though the fancy of a woman has rejected this marriage, the High King Peter is a man of prudence and understanding who will in no way wish to lose the high honour and advantage of seeing his nephew and grand nephew on the throne of Calormen."

"He will not see that if I live forever as is no doubt your wish," said the Tisroc in a deep voice.

There was an awkward silence, and if I had not been terrified for my life, I might have laughed. "And also, O my father and O the delight of my eyes," said Rabadash after he recovered himself. "We shall write letters as if from the Queen to say that she loves me and has no desire to return to Narnia. For it is well known that women are as changeable as weathercocks. And even if they do not wholly believe the letters, they will not dare to come to Tashbaan in arms to fetch her."

"O enlightened Vizier," said the Tisroc to the ape on the floor, "Bestow your wisdom upon us concerning this strange proposal."

Ahoshta Tarkaan looked up at the Tisroc, and for a second, I saw his eyes dart slyly towards the Prince. "O eternal Tisroc," he said. "The strength of paternal affection is not unknown to me and I have often heard that sons are in the eyes of their fathers more precious than carbuncles. How then shall I dare freely to unfold to you my mind in a matter which may imperil the life of this exalted Prince?"

"Undoubtedly you will dare," said the Tisroc in his cold, calm voice. "Because you will find that the dangers of not doing so are at least equally great."

I saw Ahoshta swallow. "To hear is to obey," he croaked. "Know then, O most reasonable Tisroc, in the first place, that the danger of the Prince is not altogether so great as might appear. For the gods have withheld from the barbarians the light of discretion, as that their poetry is not, like ours, full of choice apophthegms and useful maxims, but is all of love and war. Therefore nothing will appear to them more noble and admirable than such a mad enterprise as this of-" he cut off with a yelp. The Prince, incensed by the word 'mad' had kicked him again.

"Desist, O my son," said the Tisroc, a little sharply. "And you, estimable Vizier, whether he desists or not, by no means allow the flow of your eloquence to be interrupted. For nothing is more suitable to persons of gravity and decorum than to endure minor inconveniences with constancy."

"To hear is to obey," groaned the Vizier, but I saw the dust rise up on the floor as he scooted away from the Prince's toe. "Nothing, I say, will seem as pardonable, if not estimable, in their eyes as this-er- hazardous attempt, especially because it is undertaken for the love of a woman. Therefore, if the Prince by misfortune fell into their hands, they would assuredly not kill him. Nay, it may even be, that though he failed to carry off the queen, yet the sight of his great valour and of the extremity of his passion might incline her heart to him."

"This is a good point, old babbler," said Rabadash in mild surprise. "Very good, however it came into your ugly head."

Behind the slave's heels, I glared at him. _Fool, as if the Queen Susan would be so stupid. Can't you see he's trying to get you killed?_

The Vizier smiled up at the Prince. "The praise of my masters is the light of my eyes. And secondly, O Tisroc, whose reign must and shall be interminable, I think that with the aid of the gods it is very likely that Anvard will fall into the Prince's hands. And if so, we have Narnia by the throat."

For a long time no one spoke. Las still clutched my ankle tightly, as if it were not already asleep from not daring to move. I barely breathed; you could have heard a pin drop.

"Go, my son," rumbled the sofa at last. "And do as you have said. But expect no help nor countenance from me. I will not avenge you if you are killed and I will not deliver you if the barbarians cast you into prison. And if, either in success or failure, you shed a drop more than you need of Narnian noble blood and open war arises from it, my favour shall never fall upon you again and your next brother shall have your place in Calormen. Now go. Be swift, secret, and fortunate. May the strength of Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible be in your sword and lance."

"To hear is to obey!" cried Rabadash, smiling horribly. He knelt at the Tisroc's feet for a moment, and I assumed he kissed his father's hands. Then he all but ran from the room. My feet twitched. I wanted to be gone- to stop him somehow.

But the Tisroc and the Vizier remained for a time. "O Vizier," said the Tisroc. "Is it certain that no living soul knows of this council we three have held here tonight?"

"O my master," said Ahoshta. "It is not possible that any should know. For that very reason I proposed, and you in your infallible reason agreed, that we should meet here in the Old Palace where no council is ever held and none of the household has any occasion to come."

"It is well. If any man knew, I would see to it that he died before an hour had passed." I stopped breathing for a moment. "And do you also, O prudent Vizier," he continued. "Forget it. I sponge away from my own heart and from yours all knowledge of the Prince's plans. He is gone without my knowledge or my consent, I know not whither, because of his violence and the rash and disobedient disposition of youth. No man will be more astonished than you and I to hear that Anvard is in his hands."

I thought I saw a glimmer of something like triumph in Ahoshta's eyes as he replied. "To hear is to obey."

"That is why you will never think even in your secret heart that I am the hardest hearted of fathers," continued the Tisroc harshly. "Who thus send my first-born son on an errand so likely to be his death; pleasing as it must be to you who do not love the Prince. For I see into the bottom of your mind."

"O impeccable Tisroc," said the ape greasily, "In comparison with you I love neither the Prince nor my own life nor bread nor water nor the light of the sun."

"Your sentiments are elevated and correct," said the Tisroc, apparently appeased by the Vizier's flattery. "I also love none of these things in comparison with the glory and strength of my throne. If the Prince succeeds, we have Archenland, and perhaps hereafter Narnia. If he fails- I have eighteen other sons and Rabadash, after the manner of the eldest sons of kings, was beginning to be dangerous. More than five Tisrocs in Tashbaan have died before their time because their eldest sons, enlightened Princes, grew tired of waiting for their throne. He had better cool his blood abroad than boil it in inaction here. And now, O excellent Vizier, the excess of my paternal anxiety inclines me to sleep. Command the musicians to my chamber. But before you lie down, call back the pardon we wrote for the third cook. I feel within me the manifest prognostics of indigestion."

I grit my teeth. His indigestion was the cook's fault? But the Vizier replied, "To hear is to obey," and began to crawl backward on all fours like a dog until he reached the door. He rose then, bowed low, and went. But the Tisroc remained on the sofa for a long time. I began to wonder if he'd leave at all, but then the sofa creaked again, and the slave's feet began to move away. I saw his dark shadow leave the room. The door closed behind him, leaving me and Las once more in total darkness.

For a while neither of us said anything. We crawled out from behind the sofa. I stretched. Las spoke in a shuddering voice.

"How dreadful! How perfectly dreadful!" She came to me, and clutched my arms. "O darling, I _am_ so frightened. I'm shaking all over. Feel me."

I was shaking myself, but I decided not to dwell on it. "They've gone back to the new palace," I said. "Once we're out of this room we're safe enough. But it's wasted terrible time. Get me down to that water-gate as quick as you can."

"Darling, how _can _you?" Lasaraleen said, and I heard a sob building in her voice. "I can't do anything- not now. My poor nerves! No: we must just lie still a bit and then go back."

"Why back?" I demanded.

"Oh, you don't understand; you're so unsympathetic!" sobbed Lasaraleen.

This wouldn't do. I grabbed her shoulders in the dark and shook her. "If you say another word about going back, and if you don't start taking me to that water-gate at once- do you know what I'll do? I'll rush out into that passage and scream. Then we'll both be caught."

"But we shall both be k-k-killed!" gasped Lasaraleen. "Didn't you hear what the Tisroc (may he live forever) said?"

"Yes, and I'd sooner be killed than married to Ahoshta. So come _on_!"

"Oh you _are_ unkind," she sobbed. "And I in such a state!"

But trembling, she began to move at last. We left the room and she led me down the steps we had been going down when the trouble had all begun. She took me down a few more passages, shaking all the way, and out into the garden.

The moon was bright overhead, and Lasaraleen kept looking around like a nervous rabbit, sure someone would see us. I figured it was now far too late for anyone to be about. We descended through the garden, and to the wall. There was the gate, and there the river, and there the boats Las had said would be there.

I looked at them eagerly, but turned to Las. "Good-bye. And thank you. I'm sorry if I've been a pig. But think what I'm flying from!"

Las took my hand again. "Oh, Aravis, darling, won't you change your mind? Now that you've seen what a very great man Ahoshta is?"

"Great man!" I cried. "A hideous groveling slave who flatters when he's kicked but saves it all up and hopes to get his own back by egging on that horrible Tisroc to plot his son's death." I scoffed. "I'd sooner marry my father's scullion than a creature like that."

"Oh, Aravis, Aravis! How can you say such dreadful things? And about the Tisroc (may he live forever), too! It must be right if _he's _going to do it!"

As a matter of fact I was in a bit of a turmoil just then about that very thing. I didn't mention it to Las, though, and instead repeated, "Good-bye." I hesitated. "I thought your dresses lovely," I said finally. "And I think your house is lovely, too. I'm sure you'll have a lovely life- though it wouldn't suit me. Close the door softly behind me."

Las clutched at me, but I shook my head gently, and left her. I stepped into a boat, leaving her on the dock with tears on her face. I cast off, and a moment later I was downstream. There was no one around, and the moon shone clear, and at last I had some time to think.

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><p><strong>AN: Yeah, that took an awful lot longer than I thought. So MUCH longer that I ended up putting a lot of what I had planned for this chapter into the next. But there's good news! I've done a lot of the writing from here until the end of the action in HHB, though I'm still editing, and still working on the maybe six chapters I'm planning to write to fill in some of the space after they all save Archenland but before Cor (ahem...Shasta) and Aravis get married. And mid-terms are over! So if I continue to be consistent, you can reasonably expect an update every couple days- at least for the next four chapters. I hope you're still enjoying my story! Leave a review. **

**God Bless,**

**L.**


	9. I Become A Traitor

**Disclaimer: I did not sneak into Lewis' house while he was writing and inspire him. I do not have a time machine. So this story is entirely credited to his brilliance, and I am left a miserable wannabe writing a hopefully not too terrible fanfiction. But it's still just a fanfiction: a nonprofit strictly for-fun exercise in the Narnia universe with my hero's characters.**

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><p>Chapter Nine<p>

I paddled down the river, and the breeze off the water cooled my face (I had removed my veil and tied my hair back with it) but did nothing for my thoughts. Now I had left Tashbaan, all I should have had to do was cross the desert to freedom. But now this conference I had overheard, quite by accident, had complicated things considerably.

How could I be free in the North if the Tisroc stretched out his arm and made all Narnia and Archenland into a mere Calormene province? What if the tyranny I was escaping merely followed me north? I could not seek refuge in Narnia if there was no Narnia to hide me. This much was certain.

I had Bree and Hwin, and Bree, at least, knew the way across the desert. Perhaps we could beat Rabadash and his men to Anvard and warn this King Lune of Archenland? But should I carry the message, I would be sealing the gates of Calormen behind me not just for now, but forever. I would be a traitor as well as a disobedient runaway, and I knew that to return should I betray Rabadash's venture would be to go only to my death. And even if I should make that choice and arrive to warn King Lune of Archenland, what guarantee had I that he could repulse Rabadash? If he failed, and Anvard was taken, I might as well give myself up to the Tisroc for all the good I would have done.

I scowled at the light on the water and dug the paddle into the current viciously, for, after all, I knew what I would do, as final and as uncertain as it was. For all I had grown up in Calormen, the moment Hwin had promised me refuge and freedom in Narnia I had sworn my allegiance to the barbarians. And now after hearing the Tisroc and Rabadash speak plainly in secret council I would more gladly serve the High King Peter of Narnia even if he should consort with demons than they, for how could he possibly be more wicked than the men I had heard that night?

I was out of Tashbaan, and I saw a dusty, unused road up ahead beyond the trees, leading off into desert. I pushed over to it, and abandoned the punt. Let fate dictate what she would, I stood with the Narnians. A traitor maybe, but I hoped I was an honest and conscientious one.

I wandered down the road, away from the city, and up ahead saw the beehive shapes of the Tombs Bree had described. I slowed. They looked big and black and lonely and threatening against the emptiness of the desert. Suddenly I worried that Bree and Hwin had not made it. I could not know about Shasta. Looking nervously at the moon, I wondered if Bree had been altogether right in saying that there were no ghouls.

I squared my shoulders, though, and walked forward. And then, joy of joys, just as I was coming to them I saw Lasaraleen's groom waiting with Bree and Hwin!

I quickened my pace ever so slightly. "You can go back to your mistress now," I told the groom, reaching into Hwin's saddlebag and taking out some of the money they had replaced there. "Here is money for your pains."

"To hear is to obey," said the groom, taking the money and all but running away to the city. Only as he began to get beyond sight did I recall that he would not be able to enter until morning. I shrugged, and turned back to Hwin and Bree.

"Oh, you cannot imagine how glad I am to see you both," I murmured, kissing them both. "There is much we must discuss."

"And here comes Shasta!" Bree cried suddenly, with a tone of joy I hadn't supposed him capable of. "Thanks be to the Lion!"

I turned, and indeed, emerging from the northern side of the tombs came Shasta. The moon shone on him clearly enough. It seemed he had had a wash in the river, for he looked a great deal cleaner than I was used to seeing him. I was surprised how glad I was to see him.

"Hello, Shasta," I said.

His eyebrows quirked, as if he thought it strange for me to greet him. "Hullo, Aravis," he returned cautiously. "Hullo Bree, Hwin. You made it through all right?"

I shook my head. "No, there's no time for all of that. There's not a moment to lose. We must go at once! On my way out of Tashbaan, my friend and I stumbled upon a secret council of the Tisroc's- and the long and short of it is that Prince Rabadash is taking two hundred horse and is set out to take King Lune of Archenland's castle at Anvard this very night. We must warn them."

"Treacherous hounds!" said Bree, tossing his mane and stamping his hoof and for once looking every inch the great war horse he claimed to be. "An attack in time of peace, without defiance sent! But we'll grease his oats for him. We'll be there before he is."

I mounted Hwin immediately. "Can we?"

"Brooh-hoo!" Bree said. "Up you get, Shasta. Can we! And with a good start, too!"

"He said he was going to start at once," I said doubtfully.

"That's how humans talk," he said. "But you don't get a company of two hundred horse and horsemen watered and victualed and armed and saddled and started all in a minute. Now: what's our direction? Due North?"

"No," Shasta said unexpectedly. "I know about that. I've drawn a line. I'll explain later. Bear a bit to our left, both you horses. Ah- here it is!"

I was a bit surprised to find Shasta directing our party, but he seemed certain, and Bree followed him readily enough. A line set in the sand pointed off to the northwest. We stopped here, and Bree said. "Now, all that about galloping for a day and a night, like in stories, can't really be done. It must be walk and trot: but brisk trots and short walks. And whenever we walk you two humans can slip off and walk, too. Now. Are you ready Hwin?"

"Ready," she said, sounding every bit as determined as Bree.

"Off we go! Narnia and the North!" Bree cried, and it was a battle cry.

At first we were all too serious to talk. Then, as the river border of Archenland did not appear, and it dawned upon me that this ride would take a very long time, it became too dull to talk. The rhythm of Hwin's trot was easy, and the moon on the sand gleamed in every direction. Shasta did not talk, either. I was tired, and he was, too. I thought I saw him start to drop off once or twice.

It seemed that the night had been going on forever, and would always go on. But eventually the blackness all around began to turn to greyness, as always the night must. I shivered. The emptiness of the desert made me feel very lonely, even with Hwin and Bree and Shasta. And of course it was very cold, as everyone knows the desert is at night. Still I savoured it. Before too long I'd be missing the cool night air, I well knew.

The dawn began in the east- it all looked impossibly far away. Even where the river met the sea just east of Tashbaan was an inlet. The desert looked unending, though I knew the ocean could not be more than three days' ride away.

"Time to walk again," Bree murmured, and Shasta and I slid out of the saddles without comment. Just then, the sun rose and for a moment I was nearly blinded by the flash of it off of the sand. It shone. The desert had its own lonely, hostile beauty.

Shasta was holding his thumb in front of us. "A bit left, a bit left," he sang out, as if to make up for the lack of birds singing this morning. Despite myself I smiled as I followed his direction.

He stopped us when we were on course again. He looked back. "I say, look back there! Tashbaan's almost gone. You can hardly see it!"

"We have come a ways," Hwin said. "Maybe Archenland isn't too far away."

I shook my head. "Rabadash said he didn't hope to get to Anvard until the second day. There's a long way to go yet. By the by, where are we going, and why?"

Shasta shrugged. "So the other day when I was such a fool and let go of the reins, that King- King Edmund of Narnia mistook me for the Prince of Archenland-Prince Corin. He's a decent fellow…but that's not the point. Sorry, I'm muddling it." He scratched his head awkwardly. "I suppose I must look something like Corin, and he'd run away, so I was taken back to the palace. Of course, I didn't know where I was or what was going on, and I couldn't very well _say_ anything. Eventually this queer goat-creature, I think they called it a faun- his name was Mr. Tumnus- he decided I must have sun-sickness. So they put me on this couch, and fed me, and then they started talking.

"Apparently, they were in Tashbaan because Prince Rabadash wanted to marry the queen of Narnia- Queen Susan. But she'd decided she didn't want to marry him, after all, and now they were all worried that they wouldn't be able to leave."

"But that's why Rabadash is attacking Anvard!" I said. "Queen Susan and the Narnians have gone back home and he wants to bring her back to Tashbaan. And that horrible Tisroc wants to take Archenland and Narnia both- so Rabadash is thinking he can take Anvard, mount a base, and spring a surprise attack on the Narnians from there!"

"They've gone back in their ship," Shasta said. "But that wasn't the important thing. They talked about a possible war, and they said that they trusted this desert to keep any big armies from crossing. I don't know why, I guess the oasis they mentioned isn't big enough? There was this raven, though, and he said that if someone attempting to cross the desert went across towards Mount Pire- that double peaked one, just there-he could get to a gorge, and eventually a river, which would be better than the oasis. We should be there by dawn tomorrow, I think."

"Time to trot again," Bree said, and we both mounted up.

"Yes," I called over, "But what happened afterwards? How did you get away?"

Shasta grinned. "Prince Corin came back. Snuck in through the window," he called back. "Turned out he'd been getting into fights all across Tashbaan all the day before. He told me how to get out, and when I did, I just found the tombs."

"You were there overnight?" I asked, skeptical, not wanting to believe it.

Shasta turned very pale. "Yes," he said shortly. "There aren't ghouls, if that's what you're worried about."

But there had been something else, I could see. Something out in the tombs had frightened him badly. I decided not to ask.

"We have had luck," I said, to myself mostly. "You got taken by the Narnians the day they left and just happened to hear how to get safely across the desert, and I found Lasaraleen and just happened to overhear how Rabadash planned to react to Queen Susan's escape…"

"Lasaraleen?" Shasta asked.

"Lasaraleen Tarkheena to you," I said, a bit harshly. "She's an old friend of mine. She helped me to get the horses out, and then smuggled me out. She didn't want to. She was terribly frightened when…" but I shuddered, not able to think about the conference the two of us had witnessed.

Shasta looked over curiously, but decided not to ask. Instead he said, "You're not going to see her again, are you? You're not going to see any of them again."

I said nothing, and Shasta said. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Just, I think it's brave of you. For me, there was nothing really I had to leave behind."

After that he was quiet, and the regular trot, walk, trot, walk rhythm. The horses didn't speak- they were too focused on getting there. Shasta only spoke to keep us on course. I didn't speak. I was a bit angry, though I did not know why, and sad, too. I was determined to reach Anvard with warning before Rabadash. But most of all I was bored.

The sand went on and on, and now it was hot, too. Sweat began to drip down my spine and dampen my hair. I breathed in through my nose, and noticed with displeasure that a smell had begun to arise from the horses.

I supposed it was nearing ten o'clock in the morning when we got down to walk and Shasta couldn't. He leapt over the saddle in a movement very unlike his usual mounting-more natural.

"Sorry, Bree!" he gasped. "I can't walk. It burns my feet."

"Of course," Bree managed through his dry mouth and laboured breathing. "Should have thought of that myself. Stay on. Can't be helped."

Shasta looked over at me, guilt and a bit of resentment in his gaze. "It's all right for _you_. You've got shoes on."

I said nothing to that. There was nothing to be said.

We tried to be careful with the water- but it was so very, very hot. The heat sapped at our strength like we were battling a living, malicious opponent. My skin grew fevered, and my mouth dry. And still the mountains looked down at us, mocking us as it stubbornly refused to appear any closer. The sun on the sand, beautiful at sunrise, had begun to grow tiresome. The unending glare made it hard to look at, and there was nowhere else to look. Sand had gotten into my shoes and pants, and I felt dirty and gritty and dry.

I was hungry. And tired. And my head had begun to ache. For all that, I knew that Hwin had it worse. Her breathing had begun to be heavy, and foam was appearing on her sides.

When the sun was very nearly overhead, there appeared before us a giant rock outcropping. To the side of it was a little- a very little bit of shade. Without speaking, Bree turned us towards it. We crowded in, and of course we all stank to high heaven. But it didn't matter. Shasta and I ate some food- we gave Hwin and Bree a few apples and carrots I'd had packed. Shasta went about giving the horses something to drink, being very careful to help them to get as much as possible while not exhausting the skin, and making sure none of the water fell down to the ground.

We sat there in the shade- still sweating- for a very, very little time. When not ten minutes had passed Bree was muttering we'd best be on our way, and we were back at it again, Shasta calling out the directions. And now the sun was on our left, and every minute, every minute I prayed inside my head to every god I knew that he'd take his cursed face away and leave us be.

Finally, finally the glare ended, though it was still mercilessly hot. And there was still nothing, nothing but sand. If I could have mustered enough moisture in my mouth to speak, I might have asked Shasta where that gods-cursed gorge had got to. The stars came out, but I could not enjoy them.

Just when the moon rose, Shasta cried out in a dry, harsh voice quite unlike his normal one, "There it is!"

Hwin turned towards the downward rocky slope he indicated. I took one last look at the vast sea of sand behind me, and mustering the last bit of saliva in my mouth, spat out into it. Then we were among the rocks. The rocks reflected the heat back and forth and at first made it much worse than out in the desert, and Hwin and Bree had to be careful because the slope was very steep.

After a while-perhaps forty-five minutes, perhaps an hour, I began to see plants, of the spiny cactus-type variety. But there was no water, and Hwin was very, very tired by now. Her breathing was hard and ragged, and now instead of looking to the side to see Bree I found myself studying his rump.

Then, just when I might have started to weep had I any water inside of me to form tears, a sound was heard. A little trickle. The hooves began to sound not a thud on sand, not a click on rock, nor a crunch on dry, sticky grass, but a swish on softer turf. I looked over to the right, and there, wonder of wonders, was a tiny brook, too tiny to look at, then bushes sprang up on either side a little ways on, and then, finally, a river.

I gasped in wonder, and my throat burned. I'd almost forgotten what a river looked like, this dreadful day and night in the desert. Bree went into a pool first, and then Hwin was there, and both of them were drinking-drinking as if they'd never rise again from that pool in the river. Shasta all but fell off of Bree's back into the water, and I did not hesitate to follow his example. I plunge my face into the river, and it seemed as if I could not have enough of the water. It was fresh, and cool, and so not a desert. I drank, and splashed water onto my face, and ducked my head into the blessed pool, and felt the grime and sweat leave me and go streaming down the river. I resolved then and there to never, ever, take plain ordinary river water for granted again.

When we finally all got out, the grass was lovely under my feet. Some strange bird burst into a riotous, chirping little song from a nearby bush. And the valley around smelled wonderful, and the moon shone down on us. The horses lay down, without waiting to be unsaddled. I lay down between them, and so did Shasta, not two feet away. It was so nice there, and so beautiful. And I was so, so very tired.

Hwin interrupted as my eyelids began to droop. "But we mustn't go to sleep. We've got to keep ahead of that Rabadash."

"No," said Bree, as if he wasn't quite paying attention. "Mustn't go to sleep. Just a little rest," the words trailed off into a yawn. But I didn't care. Not then. Not yet. My eyes closed, just as I heard a light snore from Hwin beside me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: We're coming to the final chapters of Lewis' HHB, where I depart from the main adventure and set about filling in the spaces. When did Aravis meet Corin? Were there things SHE had to learn in Archenland? Did she have any trouble with racist nobles? Was she lonely? What all did she quarrel with Cor (erm..Shasta) about? Who did Bree and Hwin marry? What happened when the Pevensies left Narnia? How did Aravis and Cor (SHASTA!) get together at last? I'm looking forward to it, and I hope you are, too! Leave a review!**

**God Bless, **

**L.**


	10. Welcome to Archenland

**Disclaimer: a legal statement denying all claim to; as to a piece of land, a piece of art, or a piece of literature.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten<p>

I woke up the next morning, and it was already perhaps ten o'clock. I lay there on the grass for a minute, wondering where I was, and then I remembered, and with a curse, I jumped up.

"Rabadash! Oh, it's my fault!" I couldn't help but say. "Hwin, Hwin, get up! One wouldn't expect Horses to keep awake after a day's work like that," I muttered, "Even if they _can_ talk. And of course that Boy wouldn't; he's had no decent training. But _I_ ought to have known better. Bree! Shasta! Get up. Now."

Bree shifted, and Shasta groaned. Hwin was already standing. "Heigh-ho-Broo-hoo," yawned Bree. "Been sleeping in my saddle, eh? I'll never do that again. Most uncomfortable-"

I interrupted. "Oh, come on, come on! We've lost half the morning already. There isn't a moment to spare."

Bree blinked. "A fellow's got to have a mouthful of grass," he said, as Shasta sat up.

"I'm afraid we can't wait," I told him, not unsympathetically.

"What's the terrible hurry?" he asked. "We've crossed the desert, haven't we?"

"But we're not in Archenland yet," I reminded him. "And we've got to get there before Rabadash."

"Oh, we must be miles ahead of him. Haven't we been coming a shorter way? Didn't that Raven friend of yours say this was a shortcut, Shasta?"

Shasta shook his head regretfully, standing. "He didn't say anything about _shorter_. He only said _better_, because you got to a river this way. If the oasis is due North of Tashbaan, then I'm afraid this may be longer."

I bit back an exclamation. Shasta, too, looked in alarm at the sun. But Bree balked.

"Well I can't go on without a snack," he announced. "Take my bridle off, Shasta."

"P-please," said Hwin. "I feel just like Bree that I can't go on. But when Horses have humans (with spurs and things) on their backs, aren't they often made to go on when they're feeling like this? And then they find they can. I m-mean- oughtn't we to be able to do more even, now that we're free? It's all for Narnia."

I flung my arms about her, bravely willing to go on, even as exhausted as she was, but Bree said coldly. "I think, Ma'am, that I know a little more about campaigns and forced marches and what a horse can stand than you do."

Hwin's tail swished, and she looked down. I glared at Bree, but Shasta shrugged, and took off Bree's bridle.

He took out some food. "He's going to eat anyway," he murmured to me and to Hwin. "We might as well eat something while he does and take what we can from it."

I glared at him for caving so easily, but got out my own food and unbridled Hwin. When we finally got started, at nearly noon, I was almost bursting with impatience and anxiety.

But Bree did not seem to want to go. He followed the same program as the day before, but the walks were longer, and the trots were shorter, and less brisk.

Finally, Hwin took the lead, going a bit faster than Bree had been taking us. I was very proud of her; I knew her paces and her strength, and she was still nearly spent from the day before, and still in awe of Bree.

We rode down the valley, all lovely grass and beautiful little shrubs of flowering plants, and the shrubs gradually gave way to short trees, and then to big trees. It was nothing like the day before. The river let off a lovely chirping and a nice breeze. Finally, the gorge widened, and I saw a wonder.

The river we had been following joined a larger, great, rushing, roaring giant of a river up ahead, flowing away towards the east. Just past the river the country rose up again in hills, up to the Northern mountains. To the east lay rocky cliffs, and I saw actual snow on some of them- something I had heard about only in stories. To the west the mountains went on forever, blue in the distance, yet green with spiny pines closer to us, and riddled with valleys and gorges beyond count. Just ahead the mountains dipped in what I assumed must be the pass from this mountain country- Archenland- to Narnia beyond.

"Broo-hoo-hoo," cried Bree, apparently getting a wind back. "The North! The green North!"

We went to try to find a place across the great river to cross. Ahead of us it was too swift, and to the west too full of rapids to cross, but a ways down the river we found a place where it widened and became shallow. The water cast up cool air in our faces. I looked over at Bree and saw Shasta, eyes bright, cheeks red with excitement. He looked over at me and simply beamed. As if in instinct, I smiled back. To a face that full of happiness, I think I would have been less than human not to smile back.

"Friends, we are in Archenland!" said Bree, shaking his mane and dripping water over the Northern bank. "I think that river we've just crossed is called the Winding Arrow."

Hwin looked back south nervously. "I do hope we're in time," she muttered to me.

It was hard, though, to go fast now, for the hills were steep, and there was just so much to look at. Doing switchbacks up the hills, I looked here and there and everywhere and simply couldn't take it all in. There were trees I'd never seen before everywhere, great, tall, magnificent trees with silver bark or wide, pale leaves. Every now and then a rabbit would break out from behind the next hill, and just over another ridge I saw, in the distance, more deer than I'd ever seen go off in a herd together, at peace and in their element rather than locked up in some Tarkaan's menagerie.  
>"Isn't it simply glorious!" I couldn't help saying, without knowing whom I addressed.<p>

"Hullo!" came Shasta's voice suddenly. "What's that?"

I looked, and Bree and Hwin looked where he pointed, back south, where the desert had completely swallowed up Tashbaan.

"That!" Shasta said. "It looks like smoke. Is it a fire?"

"Sand-storm, I should say," Bree said.

"Not much wind to raise it," I said, with a sudden chill of foreboding.

"Oh!" cried Hwin. "Look! There are things flashing in it. Look! They're helmets- and armor. And it's moving: moving this way."

"By Tash! It's the army. It's Rabadash."

"Of course it is," moaned Hwin. "Just what I was afraid of. Quick! We must get to Anvard before it." Without waiting for Bree, without waiting for me, she began galloping North. I clutched on to her.

She did not stop or slow, and I cried back to Bree to come on.

The ridges and hills just went _on_, and Shasta looked back.

"They're on the river!" he yelled out.

"Quick! Quick! We might as well not have come at all if we don't reach Anvard in time. Gallop, Bree, gallop. Remember you're a war horse!" Hwin was slowing, but I hoped that if we had to stop and hide, at least Bree and Shasta could make it.

He had caught up to us now, and just then an awful noise rent the air behind us. The hair raised up on my forearms. It was a lion.

Hwin's ears went flat, but she could go no faster. Bree could, though, and he did. He was going faster and outstripping us, and I looked back, and my heart flew into my throat at once. There it was, gaining and gaining on us, a huge, golden cat, with teeth longer than my hand, it looked like. It was headed straight for me and for Hwin.

Now it was nearly upon us, every footfall getting closer still, snapping at Hwin. I bent over, trying to reach my scimitar, for all the good it would do. I wanted a weapon, anything!

Hwin let out a high, harsh, scream, and I suddenly saw that boy right there, standing not ten feet in front of us, face twisted in pain and horror, and then I was screaming. Hot, stabbing pain tore my shoulders once, twice. I just managed to stay in the saddle, and the boy was screaming out at the lion, running towards it and us, against all reason and towards death.

"Go home! Go home!"

The awful, punishing paw retreated, and a breeze stung my back. To my amazement, we were at a gate, and there was a man there, in autumnal orange with a long, white beard. But I was biting my lip to keep from weeping and hoping I did not faint. Hwin stumbled and I felt her shaking beneath me.

"Come in, my daughter, come in," the man said to me, and with gentle, firm hands he helped me out of the saddle. My clothing shifted and stuck to my back, and I nearly cried out again.

"Are-are-are you," Shasta was saying, and I heard him as if from a distance, "Are you King Lune of Archenland?"

The man, still helping me to stand, shook his head. "No. I am the Hermit of the Southern March. And now, my son, waste no time on questions, but obey. This damsel is wounded. Your horses are spent. Rabadash is at this moment finding a ford over the Winding Arrow. If you run now, without a moment's rest, you will still be in time to warn King Lune."

Shasta's face twisted in despair, but squared his shoulders. "Where is the King?" was all he asked.

"Look," the Hermit said pointing with his staff towards the north, and still supporting me with his other arm. "There is another gate, right opposite to the one you entered by. Open it and go straight ahead: always straight ahead, over level or steep, over smooth or rough, over dry or wet. I know by my art that you will find King Lune straight ahead. But run, run: always run."

Shasta gave a short, jerky nod, but it appeared dim to me. My head was spinning, and I felt myself half carried into a dark little house, and laid upon a bed, and then I relaxed blissfully into unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>When I woke up, for a moment I was very frightened. I did not remember where I was or why I was there, and I looked around wildly for Bree, Hwin, and Shasta. I was lying on my stomach, and my shirt was gone. I tried to turn, but cried out softly as it stung me. Then I remembered what had happened. The lion, my back, the hermit.<p>

The room was cool and bare, made of stone in a simple, homely style. The door opened just then, and the old man entered- the Hermit of the Southern March, he'd called himself. He set down a bowl on a nearby table, and asked me, "How do you find yourself, my daughter?"

I responded in like kind, "My back is very sore, father. But there is nothing else wrong with me."

He knelt beside the bed and placed a cool, dry, wrinkled hand upon my forehead gently. "There is no fever," he said softly. "You will do well. Indeed, there is no reason why you should not get up tomorrow. But now, drink this."

He came back with the bowl and held it to my lips. Normally I would have been embarrassed by this, but now I was simply grateful for his kindness. It wasn't what I had been expecting- water or stew. Instead, the strong taste of goat's milk met my tongue. I drank it all, though. It was cold and fresh and good, and as I drank it I relaxed. He reached down, and slowly, avoiding chafing my bandaged wounds, pulled a coverlet over my back.

"Now, my daughter, you may sleep when you wish. For your wounds are washed and dressed and thought they smart they are no more serious than if they had been the cuts of a whip."

I immediately felt sorry for anyone I had ever seen or ordered to be whipped.

The Hermit went on. "It must have been a very strange lion; for instead of catching you out of the saddle and getting his teeth into you, he has only drawn his claws across your back. Ten scratches: sore, but not deep or dangerous."

I blinked. "I say! I _have_ had luck."

The Hermit looked down at me seriously. "Daughter, I have now lived a hundred and nine winters in this world and have never yet met any such thing as Luck. There is something about all this that I do not understand: but if ever we need to know it, you may be sure that we shall."

"And what about Rabadash and his two hundred horse?" I asked.

"They will not pass this way, I think. They must have found a ford by now well to the east of us. From there they will try to ride straight to Anvard."

I remembered Shasta had been running to warn the king. "Poor Shasta," I found myself saying. "Has he far to go? Will he get there first?"

"There is good hope of it," said the Hermit with a smile.

Slowly, slowly, I turned over to my side. "Have I been asleep for a long time?" I asked. The light was leaving the window. "It seems to be getting dark."

The Hermit looked away out of it. "This is not the darkness of night. The clouds are falling down from Stormness Head. Our foul weather always comes from there in these parts. There will be thick fog tonight."

I nodded, and he left. But I did not sleep right away. My back was still very sore. "Like the cuts of a whip," the Hermit had said. But oh, it stung, and more than that, it sapped my strength like the desert. I thought of all the times I had seen slaves or servants beaten for laziness or clumsiness, the few times I had ordered it myself in a fit of ill temper. I wasn't one of those that had liked to see them beaten, but I hadn't abstained, either. I wondered what it was like for them when they were beaten and had had to get right up and go back to work again, and do it well.

Then, I recalled with shame the one time I may have caused a slave to be beaten- in my escape, with poor, stupid Nasreen the servant of my stepmother. "You'll make a beautiful bride," she had said. "I worried that you were not pleased with me," she had said, and I had smiled contemptuously and drugged her and left her to be punished. I wondered who on earth I had thought I was. I remembered how disdainful, how proud I had been and despised myself.

For it had not just been to Nasreen, though that perhaps was the worst of it. I had been disdainful of Baba, who I'd known had loved me, trampling over him to get away. I had tyrannized poor Lasaraleen, who had done nothing but shelter and care for me, even as silly and as frightened as she was.

And then there was Shasta, I thought ruefully. The image of him, running at the lion, was forever going to be burned into my brain. With no weapon, no hope of possibly driving off the lion, still he had jumped off of a galloping war horse and run back to save Hwin, and yes, I thought, to save me. Oh, the brave, brave fool. And good. I considered how I had treated him, and briefly wondered if it had been him lagging behind, if I would have done the same. I did not like the conclusion I came to.

Here I had been, treating Shasta as if I were so much better than he, barely talking to him, still less saying anything remotely civil, calling him 'that boy' in my head, by Tash! And still he was good enough, and courageous enough to face certain death for a girl he knew disliked him. And it just got worse, I realized. This hadn't been, if I was honest with myself, the first time I had noticed something good, or brave, or even intelligent in Shasta. I had known early on in our journey that he was good, and useful, and still I had held him in contempt, as if _I_ had behaved any better than he.

And now we were in Archenland, and should Lune vanquish Rabadash, we would be free. He could go on his own way. But now, I realized, now I didn't want him to. We had been through so much together, and I was only just now realizing what a worthy friend he would be in this strange, beautiful land. I hoped he would stay. I hoped Rabadash was vanquished so we both could stay.

* * *

><p>The next day, after a breakfast of porridge and cream, my faintness and lethargy had fled, just as the Hermit had said. After I had eaten it, I asked if I could get up.<p>

"Dear daughter, there is no reason why you should lay abed anymore than I," he said with a smile. "Your wounds are healing. Indeed, in a month I suspect even the scars shall only be a memory." He had ready for me a soft robe of white like he wore, and though it was far too big for me, I was able to roll up the sleeves and manage well enough.

I dressed, and left the room. The hermit's enclosure was beautiful- perfectly round with green hedges. The early morning sun danced on a still pool beneath a single, enormous tree. Over behind the hut from whence I had just come were a few goats, from which I assumed the milk I had drank last night had come. It was a peaceful place, a good place.

I saw Hwin, and she saw me. She looked well- near completely recovered from our ordeal. She came over to me at once, fairly trotting, and put her nose into my hair fondly. I supposed she was kissing me, as near as she could.

"Aravis," she said. "You are well?"

"I have rested," I said, "And the Hermit says my wounds aren't serious. My back is sore, but the scratches are already beginning to heal. And you? You nearly killed yourself trying to get us both away."

"That was nothing a little sleep and food couldn't cure," Hwin said softly. "I thought the lion had killed you, for a minute. I don't know what I would have done."

I patted her neck. "You don't ever have to know, thank the gods. But where's Bree?"

Hwin indicated the far side of the enclosure. "Over there. And I wish you'd come and talk to him. There's something wrong; I can't get a word out of him."

I went with her to where Bree was lying with his face towards the southern gate. He heard us coming, but he did not even twitch his ears.

"Good morning Bree," I said cautiously, unsure what was going on. "How are you this morning?"

He muttered something under his breath.

I began again, a little louder, forcing a cheerful tone. "The Hermit says that Shasta probably got to King Lune in time, so it looks as if all our troubles are over. Narnia, at last, Bree!"

"I shall never see Narnia," he said.

I began to honestly worry. "Aren't you well, Bree dear?" What could possibly keep him from Narnia?

He finally got up, and turned to face us. "I shall go back to Calormen," He announced.

"What? Back to slavery!"

"Yes," confirmed Bree. "Slavery is all I'm fit for. How can I ever show my face among the free Horses of Narnia?- I who left a mare and a girl and a boy to be eaten by lions while I galloped all I could to save my own wretched skin!"

I was silent, at last realizing what this was about. Hwin, however, shook her head. "We all ran as hard as we could," she said gently.

Bree snorted. "Shasta didn't!" Then he modified, realizing Shasta _had._ His head drooped. "At least, he ran in the right direction: ran _back_. And that is what shames me most of all. I, who called myself a war horse and boasted of a hundred fights, to be beaten by a little human boy- a child, a mere foal, who had never held a sword nor had any good nurture or example in his life!"

I blushed, realizing I must speak. "I know," I said softly. "I felt just the same. Shasta was marvelous. I'm just as bad as you, Bree. I've been snubbing him and looking down on him ever since you met us and now he turns out to be the best of us all. But I think it would be better to stay and say we're sorry than to go back to Calormen." I, at any rate, _couldn't _go back.

"It's all very well for you," Bree said. "You haven't disgraced yourself. But I've lost everything."

"My good Horse," said the Hermit. I turned to see he had come upon us silently. "My good Horse, you've lost nothing but your self-conceit."

Bree began to look annoyed, but the Hermit held up a hand. "No, no, cousin. Don't put back your ears and shake your mane at me. If you are really so humbled as you sounded a minute ago, you must learn to listen to sense. You're not quite the great Horse you had come to think, from living among poor dumb horses. Of course you were braver and cleverer than _them._ You could hardly help being that. It doesn't follow that you'll be anybody very special in Narnia. But as long as you know you're nobody very special, you'll be a very decent sort of Horse, on the whole, and taking one thing with another. And now, if you and my other four-footed cousin will come round to the kitchen door we'll see about the other half of that mash."

* * *

><p>That afternoon we talked of our journey, and wondered where Shasta was, and if he had gotten through, and Rabadash had been stopped. One thing I noticed is that Bree was actually very worried about Shasta, even more, now, than he was worried about King Lune stopping Rabadash. I wouldn't have thought it- he always seemed so much of a teacher to Shasta, digging at him about his mistakes, dragging him about Calormen and all, but now I remembered that Shasta was the first friend Bree had had since his imprisonment. He, to some extent, had been much lonelier than Hwin, who had been given to me right after her own capture.<p>

That, evening, though, we found the Hermit under the tree by the pool. A lantern was set in the ground beside him against the setting sun. He was staring into the pool with intense concentration. I looked from him to the water, and saw strange, fuzzy shapes moving there. "Pardon, father," I said. "What are you doing?"

"Come here, daughter," he said, and to Bree and Hwin with me he said, "You, too, cousins. See this pool? I have been gifted to see sometimes, what happens through Archenland and beyond in the water here. Now I have bent it to show truly what is even now taking place at Anvard. You will not be able to see, as I, but would you care to hear?"

"Oh, yes, father, please. And thank you," Hwin said.

"Rabadash and his men are come to Anvard," he announced, "But the gates are shut tight, and even now as they approach, arrows come from the walls. Good, then! You may trust to it that your Shasta has followed my instructions and has warned the king of Rabadash's attack. Five- seven Calormenes have fallen, but they know now that the attack has failed, and their shields are over their heads now. Rabadash is testing the gate now, his men surround him to protect him. He knows the gate is strong. There is no one for him to fight. He will go, but he will be back. The proud fool will not go back to Tashbaan with this news. He will hold them at siege and attempt to take the castle."

"With two hundred men?" Bree snorted.

"Rabadash has never been reasonable," I said.

"What is happening now?" Hwin asked.

The Hermit waved his hand impatiently. "He has ordered his men to withdraw. He will mount a guard, think of another plan, and attack again tomorrow. You should sleep, cousins, daughter. The pool will still be here tomorrow, and so will I."

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><p><strong>AN: Some of you expressed confusion as to how Aravis deserved to be "whipped by Aslan". While I was brought up in a home that preferred reasoned discussion of fault, I also grew up in a home that followed the maxim "Spare the rod and spoil the child" in extreme cases. I really DO think Aravis deserved her punishment, leaving a maid a casualty of her getaway: to be whipped or worse. if Kidrash Tarkaan had been the vindictive sort he may have blamed the maid: my Nasreen, and worse could have happened to her. It was proud and thoughtless of Aravis- an attitude she couldn't sustain if she was to come live in the North. That's just my view, mind. Like it or not, it's what I tried to express here. And anyway, it's canon. I'm glad you're enjoying this, and that you've borne with me all of this time. Leave a review!**

**God Bless!**

**L.M. Sharp**


	11. Before the Lion

**Disclaimer: Please, all honour to C.S. Lewis (on whom be the peace of God). I had nothing to do with it but child's play in this beautiful, inspiring universe.**

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><p>Chapter Eleven<p>

The next day I rose early, and there was bread and goat's milk laid out for me on the single table in the room I had been put in, but the Hermit was not around. I went out, and Bree and Hwin were standing a little ways off from the pool. The Hermit was still looking into it, and the lantern, though extinguished, still stood beside him.

"He's been there most of the night," Bree murmured. "I can't see anything in that pool of his, but it makes sense to him." He nickered. "There are odder things under the sky than a farsighted Hermit, to be sure, but still, it is very strange. He has not so far, seen anything important."

"At least, nothing he saw fit to tell us," Hwin modified.

I sat down beside the Hermit, and Hwin and Bree came up beside me. I bit into my bread, delicious, nutty, honey-bread, and drank some of my milk. I watched, and waited.

Every now and then, the Hermit said things like, "There is movement in the woods; Rabadash is at work," but it wasn't until eleven o'clock that things began happening in earnest.

"I see one- two- three eagles wheeling in the gap by Stormness Head," he began. "One is the oldest of the eagles. He would not be out unless battle was at hand. I see him wheel to and fro, peering down sometimes at Anvard and sometimes to the east, behind Stormness. Ah-" he said, and I sat up. "I see now what Rabadash and his men have been so busy at all day. They have felled and lopped a great tree and they are now coming out of the woods carrying it as a ram. They have learned something from the failure of last night's assault." The Hermit went on for a time about the foolishness of Rabadash, then took up again, "They are bringing their ram into position. King's Lune's men are shooting hard from the walls. Five Calormenes have fallen: but not many will. They have their shields above their heads. Rabadash is giving his orders now. With him are his most trusted lords, fierce Tarkaans from the eastern provinces. I can see their faces. There is Corradin of Castle Tormunt, and Azrooh, and Chlamash, and Ilgamuth of the twisted lip, and a tall Tarkaan with a crimson beard-"

"By the Mane," ejaculated Bree, "My old master Anradin!"

I shushed him. Some of these men knew my father, these were the hard ones, the ones I hadn't liked as a child. But the Hermit continued. "Now the ram has started. If I could hear as well as see, what a noise that would make! Stroke after stroke: and no gate can stand it forever. But wait!" he said, and his eyebrows flew up. "Something up by Stormness has scared the birds. They're coming out in masses. And wait again…I can't see yet." He paused, looking intently.

"Ah, now I can. The whole ridge, up on the east, is black with horsemen. If only the wind would catch that standard and spread it out. They're over the ridge now, whoever they are." He suddenly gave a jubilant cry. "I've seen the banner now," he told us. "Narnia. Narnia! It's the red lion. They're in full career down the hill now. I can see King Edmund…"

I remembered the dark-haired, fair-faced young man from Tashbaan, and grinned. The Hermit went on. "There's a woman behind among the archers. Oh!"

"What is it?" asked Hwin, her voice joyful, but anxious at the same time.

"All his Cats are dashing out from the left of the line."

I checked at this. "Cats?"

The Hermit waved his hand impatiently, as if adjuring me to use my head. "Great cats, leopards and such," he told me. "I see, I see. The Cats are coming round in a circle to get at the horses of the dismounted men. A good stroke. The Calormene horses are mad with terror already. Now the Cats are in among them. But Rabadash has re-formed his line and has a hundred men in the saddle. They're riding to meet the Narnians. There's only a hundred yards between the two lines now."

As the Hermit described the charge and who was in it, I wondered how on earth Narnia had got wind of Rabadash's attack on Anvard. "There are two mere children in the Narnian line," The Hermit was saying in surprise. "What can the King be about to let them into the battle? Only ten yards- the lines have met. The Giants on the Northern right are doing wonders…" he reported, then his face twisted into sadness. "But one's down. Shot through the eye, I suppose. The center's all a muddle. I can see more on the left. There are the two boys again," he said. His eyes widened suddenly. "Lion alive! One is Prince Corin."

I straightened up, recalling this name from Shasta's tale of Tashbaan. "The other," said the Hermit, "Like him as two peas. It's your little Shasta."

I bit my lip, and I saw Bree's tail start to twitch, though that, of course, explained how Narnia had heard of Rabadash's attack. "Corin is fighting like a man," the Hermit said. "He's killed a Calormene. I can see a bit of the center now. Rabadash and Edmund almost met then, but the press has separated them-"

I shook my head, and Bree tossed his mane. "What about Shasta?" I asked pointedly.

There was silence for a minute, and the Hermit groaned. "Oh, the fool! Poor, brave fool. He knows nothing about this work. He's making no use at all of his shield. His whole side's exposed."

Bree let out an anxious whinny. The Hermit continued. "He hasn't the faintest idea what to do with his sword. Oh, he's remembered it now. He's waving it wildly about…nearly cut his own pony's head off, and he will in a moment if he's not careful." The Hermit's voice rose. "It's been knocked out of his hand no. It's mere murder sending a child into the battle; he can't live five minutes. Duck, you fool!" he cried, "Oh, he's down."

"Killed?" I cried out, and Bree and Hwin with me. _Oh, Shasta, not after all that,_ I thought, _'Poor, brave fool' indeed. Just like Kadmel. _

The Hermit shook his head, "How should I know," he said sadly. "The Cats have done their work. All the riderless horses are dead or escaped now: no retreat for the Calormenes on _them_. Now the Cats are turning back into the main battle. They're leaping on the rams-men. The ram is down. Oh, good! Good!" he cried again.

"The gate's are opening," he reported. "There's going to be a sortie. The first three are out. It's King Lune in the middle: the brothers Dar and Darrin on each side of him. Behind them are Tran and Shar and Cole with his brother Colin. There are ten-twenty-nearly thirty of them out by now. The Calormen line is being forced back upon them. King Edmund is dealing marvelous strokes. He's just slashed Corradin's head off. Lots of Calormenes have thrown down their arms and are running for the woods. Those that remain are hard pressed. The Giants are closing in on the right- Cats on the left- King Lune from their rear. The Calormenes are a little knot now, fighting back to back. Your Tarkaan's down, Bree. Lune and Azrooh are fighting hand to hand; the King looks like winning- the King is keeping it up well- the King has won. Azrooh's down." He paused, then said loudly, quickly, angrily, "King Edmund's down-" he smiled in relief, "No, he's up again: he's at it with Rabadash. They're fighting in the very gate of the castle. Several Calormenes have surrendered. Darrin has killed Ilgamuth. I can't see what's happened to Rabadash. I think he's dead, leaning against the castle wall, but I don't know. Chlamash and King Edmund are still fighting but the battle is over everywhere else. Chlamash has surrendered. The battle _is _over," he said in surprise. "The Calormenes are utterly defeated."

I took a deep breath, processing that it was over, and that I was really, truly free. But two hundred warriors from my homeland were either captured or dead- and Shasta-

But The Hermit was talking. "Things are still happening. Edmund is shaking King Lune's hand- everyone is laughing. I see- Rabadash is not dead. He is caught- somehow suspended on a hook in the castle wall. Oh, wait, friends," he said joyfully, "Your little Shasta. He's not dead, after all. He fell, but now he's up. Dear ones, I don't even think he's seriously hurt!"

"Praise the Lion!" Bree said breathlessly, and I wondered why on earth he'd be praising a lion, of all things.

"Ah, Rabadash is being bound and taken away, screaming, howling like the miserable fool that he is. Corin has found your Shasta. It seems the two boys are friends. Corin is excited about something. He is taking Shasta to King Lune. They are talking- by the Lion! The king has embraced the boy- Shasta, not Corin- kissed him like a son. I wonder...but friends, we shan't be able to hear them, and I am sure Shasta himself will now be able to tell you all that transpires from here. Shall we see about some late dinner?"

I nodded dumbly, and the three of us followed the Hermit to the kitchen door, where the Hermit would make something nice for the horses and for me and him.

"But what can it all mean?" I found myself saying. "What will happen to Rabadash? And what about Shasta?"

"You may rest easy about Rabadash," said the Hermit. "He is a villain and deserves death, but Lune will not give it to him. The King is kindly, and merciful. As for your Shasta, he is a hero, though I can only guess who he is to the King besides that. Friends with Corin, and saviour of Archenland, though, I can suppose that he will go no further north than Anvard. The Prince lacks companions of his own age."

I nodded, suddenly sad. "You two will go to Narnia, won't you?" I said.

"It is why we came," Hwin said, sticking her nose delicately into the trough the Hermit now filled with oats for her and for Bree.

"My daughter, what shall we eat this afternoon?" he asked me. I curtsied.

"My father, pardon me, but I do not find that I am hungry," I said. I turned, and walked towards the Northern gate. I grabbed the bars and looked out, towards where I presumed Anvard, and the pass to Narnia lay.

Here now, was the problem I had anticipated as early as Tashbaan. Where was I to go now? Should I go to the king of Archenland, a woman of the race that had just attacked him, and beg sanctuary? Could I to Narnia, a land which, as the Hermit now confirmed, was just as full of talking animals and giants that needed no houses as it was of men, or more so? Who would be my friend, daughter of Calormen and traitor that I was? I had not realized how much I had counted on having Shasta by my side, even before I had recognized what he was worth. Now that he was gone, I found myself free, yes, but also lonely in a strange land.

I heard hooves fall behind me, and turned to find Hwin. "Aravis," she said. "You're worried again."

I went to her, and leaned my head up against hers. "What am I to do?"

She was silent for a time. When she spoke, she said, "You are as much a hero to Archenland as Shasta, and yours was the harder path to walk. Yours was the news he carried to King Lune. Surely, the Narnians and Archenlanders will realize how brave you've been. I can't imagine that they would turn you away, should you ask for sanctuary among them." She hesitated. "And if they should not, I did promise I'd look after you, though I know it's not what you would prefer."

"Hwin, how could you look after me?" I asked, half-laughing.

She was quiet when she answered. "I don't know, but I did promise. I won't have brought you to Narnia only to be alone. I wouldn't be a friend if I did that. Anyway, we needn't bother about it unless worse comes to worse. We'll do all we can to get you settled with humans- people that will love and respect you, and, like I said, I can't imagine it'll be hard- you are a hero."

"I'm a runaway former Tarkheena, a Calormene, and a traitor one at that," I said. But I stuck out my chin. "Still, better the life of a free beggar in the beautiful, kindly Narnia with a friend like you than the life of a caged princess in the cruel, sumptuous world of my fathers."

"You do not regret coming?" Hwin asked nervously.

"Never. But I do worry."

Hwin pushed at my cheek a little with her head, trying to comfort me, and together, we looked out towards the North.

* * *

><p>The next day, after breakfast when the Hermit was inside, we began to talk.<p>

"I've had enough of this," said Hwin. "The Hermit has been very good to us and I'm very much obliged to him, I'm sure. But I'm getting as fat as a pet pony, eating all day and getting no exercise. Let's go on to Narnia."

Bree looked horror-struck. "Oh, not today, ma'am," he objected. "I wouldn't hurry things. Some other day, don't you think?"

"We must see Shasta first and say good-bye to him," I said, "And-"- _beg to stay? Plead for mercy as a runaway daughter of Calormen? _My mind supplied. I settled for, "And apologize."

"Exactly!" agreed Bree far too quickly. "Just what I was going to say."

"Oh, of course," said Hwin. "I expect he is in Anvard. Naturally we'd look in on him and say good-bye. But that's on our way. And why shouldn't we start at once? After all, I thought it was Narnia we all wanted to get to?" She directed her words at me, and subtly stepped in front of me, signaling she'd shelter me, both from looking weak and from whatever came.

"I suppose so," I said.

"Of course, of course," said Bree, "But there's no need to rush things, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean," said Hwin. "Why don't you want to go?"

Bree's tail swished and his weight shifted from hoof to hoof. "Mmm…Broo-hoo…Well, don't you see, Ma'am- it's an important occasion- returning to one's own country- entering society- the bet society- it is so essential to make a good impression," He looked back towards his rump. "Not perhaps looking quite ourselves yet, eh?"

Hwin laughed. "It's your tail, Bree! I see it all now. You want to wait till your tail's grown again! And we don't even know if tails are worn long in Narnia. Really, Bree, you're as vain as that Tarkheena in Tashbaan!"

I smiled. "You _are_ silly, Bree."

"By the Lion's Mane, Tarkheena, I'm nothing of the sort!" protested Bree. "I have a proper respect for myself and for my fellow horses, that's all."

"Bree," I said, suddenly resolving to find out what all this nonsense was about a lion. "I've been meaning to ask you something for a long time. Why do you keep swearing 'By the Lion' and 'By the Lion's Mane'? I thought you hated lions." I twisted a little, feeling the scabs stretch over my back.

"So I do," Bree said. "But when I speak of _the_ Lion of course I mean Aslan, the great deliverer of Narnia who drove away the Witch and the Winter. All Narnians swear by _him_."

I shuddered. I'd heard the name. Aslan was the chief of the demons supposed to inhabit Narnia. "But is he a lion?" I asked.

"No, no, of course not," said Bree quickly, looking at me as if I were drooling.

"All the stories about him in Tashbaan say he is," I persisted. "And if he isn't a lion why do you call him a lion?"

At that very moment I understood the meaning of the phrase "speak of the devil". For a lion, an enormous lion, bigger than any I had ever seen or somehow knew would ever see again, had sprung up onto the wall. As soon as I saw Him, I lost all power of speech and motion. He glowed in the morning sun as he sprang down, landing silently inside behind Bree, but He seemed to exude a radiance all his own.

Bree's back was to the Lion, and it was making no noise as it approached, so he went on prattling. "-it would be quite absurd to suppose he is a real lion. Indeed it would be disrespectful. If he was a lion he'd have to be a Beast just like the rest of us. Why! If he was a lion he'd have four paws, and a tail, and Whiskers!" He broke off into a yelp, because right then the Lion had stepped up right beside him, so close that one of his whiskers had tickled Bree's ear. Bree ran as far as he could go, to the other side of the Hermit's enclosure, but he could go no further.

The Lion stood before us, and I knew, just as much and more than I knew my own name was Aravis, that this was Aslan, saviour of Narnia. And he was not a demon. He was a Lion. He was _the_ Lion, and he was here, and real, and beautiful, and dangerous, and at the same time he was my only hope. The only hope I had _ever_ had. In that moment, I knew Tash, and Zardeenah, and all of the countless others were nothing, were abominations, compared to Him. I felt all of my pride and anger and carelessness and littleness before his glory, and I could not move.

Hwin did. She moved forward, until she was almost nose to nose with the Lion. "Please," she said softly. "You're so beautiful. You may eat me if you like. I'd sooner be eaten by you than fed by anyone else."

"Dearest daughter," said the Lion in a rich golden voice that seemed to shake the earth. He licked Hwin's nose. "I knew you would not be long in coming to me. Joy shall be yours."

Then he lifted his head and spoke in a ringing command. "Now, Bree. You poor, proud, frightened Horse, draw near. Nearer still, my son. Do not dare not to dare Touch me. Smell me. Here are my paws, here is my tail, these are my whiskers. I am a true Beast."

Bree stood at Aslan's feet now with Hwin, shaking. But he spoke. "Aslan," he said, and the word was a greeting and a recognition. "I'm afraid I must be rather a fool."

"Happy the Horse who knows that while he is still young," said Aslan, and I thought there was a note of humour in that voice bigger than the world. "Or the Human either." Then he turned those golden eyes upon me, and I began trembling. "Draw near, Aravis my daughter."

Something turned inside of me, leapt to be recognized by Him. I came, and shakily, I knelt at His feet beside Bree and Hwin.

"See!" He told me. "My paws are velveted. You will not be torn this time."

I looked into his face, and my back gave a sudden throb. "This time, sir?" I asked.

"It was I who wounded you," He said. "I am the only lion you met in all your journeyings. Do you know why I tore you?"

"No, sir," I said. He tore my back, and then He calls me Daughter. My brain reeled.

"The scratches on your back, tear for tear, throb for throb, blood for blood, were equal to the stripes laid on the back of your stepmother's slave because of the drugged sleep you cast upon her. You needed to know what it felt like."

I remembered what the Hermit had said, and what I had thought that night. I could not deny Him. Proud, Disdainful Aravis, who had stepped over poor Nasreen and had rejoiced in the prospect of her pain to spite Lanavisra… I despised her, and I would not go back. I bowed my head. "Yes, sir. Please-"

"Ask on, my dear," said Aslan.

"Will any more harm come to her by what I did?"

I looked into His face, and His eyes both approved and promised nothing. "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own." He shook His mane, and a lovely smell, of bravery, and of hope, if I may call them smells, arose from it. "Be merry, little ones," he commanded. "We shall meet soon again. But before that you will have another visitor."

In one swift bound He sprang to the top of the wall. He did not look back. He dropped over the side, and was gone.

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><p><strong>AN: Again, this is a chapter I've had to cut in half. But the result should be TWO lovely chapters rather than one that's too long to be quite so enjoyable. I hope I did justice to the Aslan-experience. I think I did…you tell me. Review please?**

**God Bless!**

**L.**


	12. New Friends with New Names

**Disclaimer: Cor (SHASTA ) is not mine, nor is Aravis, Bree, the Hermit, Hwin, King Lune, Queen Lucy, Narnia, or Archenland. All were the intellectual creations of Jack Lewis and now are owned by the C.S. Lewis estate. Because of that, this is a strictly amateur work written for your amusement and my own, not for any monetary compensation.**

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><p>Chapter Twelve<p>

No-one talked. Hwin, Bree, and I all went to some corner of the enclosure now, to think. For myself, I went back to the Northern gate, and looked out. Rash I may have been. Proud and thoughtless and cruel I had been. But now I had looked into Aslan's eyes, and I had seen. This was a new land, a new start, and when He had told me that I would not be torn again, I had known that He saw me, and I was forgiven. My presence in His country, in Archenland and Narnia, was welcome. And far from the anxiety of last night, I now felt that wherever I went from here, His blessing would be on me. He had looked into me, and called me by name, and now, for the first time in years, I was truly at peace.

After a while, the Hermit called the Horses in for their dinner. I was alone, when horns at the gate startled me.

"Who is there?" I called.

"His Royal Highness Prince Cor of Archenland," came the official sounding voice of an attendant.

I opened the gate and opened it, backing up. Two soldiers in livery came in bearing standards, and following them came the trumpeter and the herald who had called to me. They took up their positions on either side of the gate, and the herald said, "His Royal Highness Prince Cor of Archenland desires an audience of the Lady Aravis."

I wondered what the Prince of Archenland could possibly want with me, and then he came in and the attendants were leaving. The Prince bowed, though he nearly fell over, as if he was not very used to bowing. I curtsied, looking at him in confusion.

He was a few inches taller than me, dressed in the lovely Northern style in a white outer tunic and a red under-tunic. He bore a sword and his hand was bandaged, and a thin circlet ran about his head. He was very nice-looking, with flyaway light blonde hair, piercing green eyes, and a bit of an uncertain smile…

I started. "Why! It's Shasta!"

All at once the smile left his face and he turned as red as his under-tunic. "Look here, Aravis," he said very quickly. "I do hope you won't think I'm got up like this (and the trumpeter and all) to try to impress you or make out I'm different or any rot of that sort. Because I'd far rather have come in my old clothes, but they're burnt now, and my father said-"

I cut him off before he got the explanation all out of order again focusing on something that wasn't important in the least. "Your father?" I asked.

Shasta's hand went to the back of his head, and the action was so familiar that I relaxed immediately. "Apparently King Lune is my father. I might really have guessed it. Corin being so like me. We were twins, you see. Oh, and my name isn't Shasta, it's Cor."

Prince Cor of Archenland, indeed. "Cor is a nicer name than Shasta," I said, hoping to ease the awkwardness he must be feeling right now a bit.

"Brothers' names run like that in Archenland," Shasta- _Cor-_I corrected myself- said. "Like Dar and Darrin, Cole and Colin and so on."

"Shasta- I mean Cor," Cor opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. "No, shut up," I told him. "There's something I've got to say at once. I'm sorry I've been such a pig." Hastily I added, "But I did change before I knew you were a Prince, honestly I did: when you went back, and faced the Lion."

Cor's eyes seemed to look far away for a moment. "It wasn't really going to kill you at all, that Lion," he said.

I nodded. "I know." His eyes met mine, and I saw a look in them that somehow told me he, too, had met Aslan, and knelt at His feet. Then I looked away, almost shy for a moment. In doing so, I saw his hand again. "I say! I forgot! You've been in a battle. Is that a wound?"

"A mere scratch," he said, appearing to mimic someone or another. Then he laughed: a bright, merry, musical sound that I hadn't heard from him before. I realized I liked it very much. "If you want to know the truth, it isn't a proper wound at all. I only took the skin off my knuckles just as any clumsy fool might do without going near a battle."

"Still, you were in the battle. It must have been wonderful."

Cor's eyes darkened. "It wasn't at all like what I thought," he said simply.

"But Sha-Cor, I mean" I said, changing the subject, "You haven't told me anything yet about King Lune and how he found out who you were."

Cor- though it was hard to attribute that name to Shasta's face- came forward. "Well, let's sit down," he said, and I did, and he sat across from me, heedless of what damage the wet grass might do to his nice new tunic. "For it's rather a long story. And by the way, Father's an absolute brick. I'd be just as pleased- or very nearly- at finding he's my father even if he wasn't a king." He made a face, "Even though Education and all sorts of horrible things are going to happen to me." He shrugged, and looked over at me. "But you want the story. Well, Corin and I were twins. And about a week after we were both born, apparently, they took us to a wise old Centaur in Narnia to be blessed or something. Now this Centaur was a prophet as a good many Centaurs are."

I looked at him curiously, and he bit his lip. "Perhaps you haven't seen any Centaurs yet? There were some in the battle yesterday. Most remarkable people, but I can't say I feel quite at home with him yet. I say, Aravis, there are going to be a lot of things to get used to in these Northern countries."

I smiled at how he was getting off topic, all the while marveling at how intelligently he could speak. I'd never noticed before. "Yes, there are," I agreed. "But get on with the story."

Cor nodded. "Well, as soon as he saw Corin and me, it seems this Centaur looked at me and said, A day will come when that boy will save Archenland from the deadliest danger in which ever she lay. So of course my Father and Mother were very pleased. But there was someone present who wasn't. This was a chap called Lord Bar who had been Father's Lord Chancellor. And apparently he'd done something wrong," His face twisted in confusion. "_Bezzling_ or some word like that- I didn't understand that part very well- and Father had had to dismiss him. But nothing else was done to him and he was allowed to go on living in Archenland. But he must have been as bad as he could be, for it came out afterward he had been in the pay of the Tisroc and had sent a lot of secret information to Tashbaan. So as soon as he heard I was going to save Archenland from a great danger he decided I must be put out of the way. Well, he succeeded in kidnapping me (I don't exactly know how) and rode away down the Winding Arrow to the coast. He'd had everything prepared and there was a ship manned with his own followers lying ready for him and he put out to sea with me on board. But Father got wind of it, though not quite in time, and was after him as quickly as he could. The Lord Bar was already at sea when Father reached the coast, but not out of sight. And Father was embarked in one of his own warships within twenty minutes."

He paused to catch his breath, and then continued. "It must have been a wonderful chase. They were six days following Bar's galleon and brought her to battle on the seventh. It was a great sea-fight (I heard a lot about it yesterday evening) from ten o'clock in the morning till sunset. Our people took the ship in the end. But I wasn't there. The Lord Bar himself had been killed in the battle. But one of his men said that, early that morning, as soon as he saw he was certain to be overhauled, Bar had given me to one of his knights and sent us both away in the ship's boat. And that boat was never seen again. But of course that was the same boat that Aslan (he seems to be at the back of all the stories) pushed ashore at the right place for Arsheesh to pick me up." Shasta looked thoughtful. "I wish I knew that knight's name," he said. "For he must have kept me alive and starved himself to do it."

"I suppose Aslan would say that was part of someone else's story," I said, shrugging.

"I was forgetting that," Cor said.

"And I wonder how the prophecy will work out," I said, just now comprehending how important Shasta the peasant boy was. "And what the great danger is that you're to save Archenland from."

There went the hand to the head again, and Cor looked away. "Well…they seem to think I've done it already," he muttered.

I clapped, delighted. "Why, of course! How stupid I am. And how wonderful! Archenland can never be in much greater danger than it was when Rabadash had crossed the Arrow with his two hundred horse and you hadn't yet got through with your message. Don't you feel proud?"

Cor still wasn't looking at me. "I think I feel scared," he said in a low voice.

I understood. Cor wasn't the type to think himself anyone special-how could he be, after the life he'd led? And now he was being made much of and suddenly told he was an important hero and prince. I thought that it must be terrifying for him. I sighed. "And you'll be living in Anvard now," I said.

"Oh!" Cor cried. He grabbed my hand suddenly, jumped up, and pulled me with him. "I'd nearly forgotten what I came about. Father wants you to come and live with us. He says there's been no lady in the court (they call it the court, I don't know why) since Mother died. Do, Aravis. You'll like Father-and Corin. They're not like me; they've been properly brought up. You needn't be afraid that-"

I laughed. Now that I was looking properly, it was amazing that I hadn't seen Cor before for what he was. Just after this one proper conversation I could tell I was going to like him immensely, however delightful Corin and the King might be. "Oh stop it," I said. "Or we'll have a real fight. Of course I'll come."

A big, honest smile broke out on Cor's face, and I marveled that after everything, he was genuinely glad I was coming. He let go of my hand. "Now let's go and see the Horses," he said.

"Ooh, I can't wait to see what Bree will say," I said with relish.

We went around to the back, where the Horses were just finishing off their dinner with some grass. "Bree, Hwin," I called. "May I introduce, His Royal Highness, Prince Cor of Archenland?" I gestured expansively to Cor, and he turned red again.

"Aravis, don't," he mumbled. "Hullo, Hwin," he said. "Hullo, Bree."

Bree walked forward. "Shasta?" he said in disbelief.

"Well, actually it's Cor, but…"

Then Bree was right up with Cor and he blew air into his face. "I worried about you, little one," he said in a low voice.

Cor smiled. "You can see I'm all right," he said. "It's good to see you, Bree."

"It's good to see you, too," Bree said. He snorted. "Broo-hoo! Prince of Archenland, is it? I told you, didn't I, that you were true Northern stock? But Prince of Archenland, I do confess I never would've thought it. "

Cor smiled. "Neither would I have," he said. "To tell the truth, I'm still wrapping my head around it. I'm going to live in Anvard now. So is Aravis. Should you two Horses like to go with us to Anvard now?"

"Of course," said Hwin at once. "Aravis, you two are living at Anvard?"

"King Lune invited me," I confirmed.

Her eyes glowed like they did when she was particularly content. "Oh, do let's go and see you two settled at once," she told Shasta. "Bree, will you come?"

Bree's ears twitched. "I will come," he said. "I'd like to see you two Humans off properly."  
>"And we can go into Narnia together the day after," Hwin said happily.<p>

"I suppose," Bree muttered.

Cor looked at me inquisitively. I jerked my thumb at his tail, and Cor bit back a smile.

"We should say good-bye to the Hermit before we go," I said. "He's done so much for all of us."

The others agreed, and we knocked on the kitchen door. The Hermit came out. "Yes, I thought we'd be seeing you, my son," he said. "Or is it your Highness, now?"

Cor smiled awkwardly in confirmation. "It's time we're going, sir," he said, "But I want to thank you. If it weren't for you, I never could have got the message through to my Father in time."

"You have been so kind to me- to all of us," I agreed. "I can never thank you enough."

Bree and Hwin added their thanks to Cor's and mine. The Hermit smiled. "It was no trouble at all my children, cousins. And this is not good-bye. You will come back to see me, will you not? There is always a place for all of you at my table, humble as it is."

We all gave him our promise, and Bree turned to Cor. "Well, Shas-your Highness, I mean, our saddles are over there. You two better saddle us up."

Cor shook his head with a smile. "Not now, Bree. We can leave the tack here to rot. You two are free Talking Horses of Narnia now. Father explained it to me. Of course, Aravis and I couldn't have known, but here in Archenland, and in Narnia, no one ever rides a Talking Horse." He hesitated. "Well, except in war. Then the Horses go and bear humans. But besides that, no one ever rides a Talking Horse."

Bree looked taken aback, and was silent as we walked out of the northern gate and met Cor's attendants. All of us set out towards Anvard.

"Oh, I couldn't be happier," Hwin said presently. "Bree, I'm going home. I'm free! And Aravis and Sha-Cor, I mean, are here, and they've a place as much as we, and isn't it all just too lovely for words?"

"Bree?" I asked, when the Horse maintained his silence.

"I know nothing of Narnia," he said. "I was just a foal- younger than you two humans, by horse time- when I was captured. How stupid I shall seem to them all- where Talking Horses don't bear humans. I never knew a Horse did anything else!"

"Buck up, Bree," said Cor, putting his hand on Bree's back. "It's far worse for me than you. You aren't going to be _educated_. I shall be learning reading and writing and heraldry and dancing and history and music while you'll be galloping an d rolling on the hills of Narnia to your heart's content."

"But that's just the point!" cried Bree. "_Do_ Talking Horses roll? Supposing they don't? I can't bear to give it up. What do you think, Hwin?"

She tossed her mane. "I'm going to roll anyway," she declared. 'I don't suppose any of them will care two lumps of sugar whether you roll or not."

"Are we near that castle?" said Bree as we walked through a lovely little wood of tall, stately trees and heathery slopes.

"Round the next bend," said Cor.

"Well," sighed Bree. "I'm going to have a good one now: it may be the last. Wait for me a minute."

We did not wait a minute. We waited five as Bree rolled and kicked on the ground as if he were to die tomorrow. He rose finally, and said sadly. "Now I'm ready. Lead on, Prince Cor. Narnia and the North."

The words were said so gloomily I couldn't suppress a chuckle, and Cor laughed with me. Bree's ears went back ever so slightly, but he did not respond otherwise. We kept going, and then we were out of the woods, and looking out on a comfortable-looking, reddish brown castle built up against a ridge across a green lawn.

I smiled. It was a fair size, sturdy and old, but not at all intimidating or proud for a castle. It looked like…it looked like home. The word was lovely, just to think. Cor led us around to the gate, and King Lune was already there.

He was stouter than I would have imagined, and dressed clothes that looked to be old and patched. They smelled like dogs, but I recognized his twinkling green eyes, his smile was kind, and his deep bow was grace itself. He took my hand.

"Little lady," he said, "We bid you very heartily welcome. If my dear wife were still alive we could make you better cheer, but could not do it with a better will. And I am sorry that you have had misfortunes and been driven from your father's house, which cannot but be a grief to you. Cor has told me about your adventures together and all your valour."

I was at once at ease. "It was he who did all that, Sir," I told him. "Why, he rushed at a lion to save me."

King Lune's face brightened, clearly pleased to be told good of his son. "Eh, what's that? I haven't heard that part of the story."

I smiled. "We were racing to warn you of Rabadash, sir, just south of the Hermit of the Southern March. A lion came upon us, roaring and snarling. Bree here, great war horse that he is, soon pulled ahead of my Hwin. But we had gone all the day and night before through the desert, and been galloping to warn you besides, and Hwin fell behind. The lion was at her heels, snapping and snarling, and Cor- Shasta as he was then- looked back and saw. And, sir, the boy jumped off of Bree's saddle, with him in a full gallop. It must have hurt dreadfully. But he didn't stop for a moment. Heedless of the danger, himself without even so much as a stick as weapon, he ran as fast as he could run back towards a panicked horse and a murderous lion- who was even then tearing my shoulder. He ran at it, I say, and shouted at it for it to leave me alone. And it did."

Cor was blushing like mad by the end of the story. "It sounds stupid when you tell it like that," he said.

"Oh, but it wasn't," I said. "It showed incredible bravery and good feeling. You cared for me and Hwin more than your own life. Sir, it was very brave of him." I told the King.

"Ah, Cor, and you did not tell me," said the King, chuckling. "It shows commendable modesty on thy part. A lion, indeed. Thou must have a lion's courage, I think."

Cor grimaced, and shoved his hands into his pockets, obviously embarrassed. King Lune gave one more dimpled smile at him, then turned to the Horses.

"Cousins," he said. "You are welcome. My son Cor has also told me of your steadfastness and of your determination. I cannot be more grateful to you for returning him to us, or for helping to save our kingdom of Archenland."

Bree and Hwin swished their tails, seeming surprised to be noticed. Finally Bree ventured to speak. "Your Majesty, please, don't mention it."

"I am glad that after so many years of slavery and solitude, the two of you are returned to your homeland at last. It is an occasion of great joy. Pray, Madam Hwin, Sir Bree, where did you live before your respective captures? Do you remember?"

Hwin shifted her weight, seeming unable to say much, similarly to how she had been when we first met Bree. Bree himself seemed rather shy. They mumbled out negative answers, and King Lune pressed on.

"Who were your families? King Edmund of Narnia is here; we might make inquiries to see if we cannot find relatives of yours, good Horses who might be overjoyed to see you both."

Luckily for the flustered Horses, a woman came out then, about Cor's height, no more than nineteen or twenty years old. She was dressed in a lovely, though simple, gown of flowing blue, with a red girdle, and her dark blonde hair was gathered simply behind her head. But her merry smile had a gracious authority, and the circlet around her head and the ring upon her finger declared her one of Narnia's four sovereigns.

"My dear," said King Lune to me, "Here is a loving friend of our house, and she has been seeing that your apartments are put to rights for you better than I could have done it."

The woman came forward to meet me. She took my hands in her tiny, but strong grip, and kissed my cheek. "You'd like to come and see them, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes, please, Your Majesty Queen—"

"Lucy," the woman laughed. "I'm Queen Lucy. And I know all about you, of course." She put an arm around my shoulders and took me inside. "Cor has told us all. Incredible, isn't it? That the crown Prince of Archenland should be found after all this time in a peasant boy from Calormen, and that peasant boy should save us all. It's wonderful, though. Aslan has watched over you both, to be sure."

Her voice was sweet, and her expression kind. I looked around at the interior of Anvard. There were windows and lamps everywhere, so that the halls were full of light. Rich, brightly coloured tapestries hung on the walls, depicting myths and events from what I presumed was Archenlander history. "This is all so lovely," I said. "I can't think what I've done to deserve all of this kindness."

The Queen Lucy frowned. "No one should be forced to marry," she said, voice suddenly harsh. "That's why I came out to the fight, you know, not just to defend Lune and Anvard, though that was important. Rabadash would have taken my sister Susan by force. You are free now, and we will see you happy, too. You were a princess in Calormen. You will be no less, here. Just up these stairs."

She led me up a wide, shallow stairway and down a corridor on the right. We went past a few doors. "These rooms are mostly empty now," Lucy said sadly. "A few years ago there were many women of Archenland that made their home at court, but when Corin's mother the Queen Iris died, not three years ago, the court just dwindled. A bit of the King died, and he has aged much since them. She was a gracious woman, and fair. Perhaps, now that the Prince has been found, and you have arrived, this court will begin to live again at last."

"I am from Calormen," I began.

"What possible bearing has that on anything?" Lucy demanded. "I and my siblings are not from this world, yet we are kings and queens in Narnia. You are a lady valiant, a princess in your own right, a heroine to this land and this people. Why should you not be welcomed? Why should you not belong? Here, Lady Aravis, just here. These are your rooms. They have traditionally belonged to daughters of the King of Archenland, but Queen Iris and the King never bore a girl-child." She opened a door at the end of the hall, and I went inside.

The first chamber was a sitting room, hung with scenes of hunting and great love-stories of Archenland, it appeared. There was a fine green sofa there, and three chairs. A low table was there, and the window looked east towards the lower cliffs that went down to the sea. The rooms were set in the southeastern corner of Anvard, Lucy told me. She showed me the delicate porcelain basin where I could wash, and took me beyond, to the bedchamber. These walls, unlike in the sitting room, were hung with red and orange silks, the likes that had hung in my own bedroom back in Calormen. I gasped. "Your Majesty…"

"I figured that you should want a place where you could be reminded of home in this strange land," she said softly. "The silks of Calormen are highly valued in trade between our countries. It was easy enough to find hangings of the type to go in a Tarkheena's room. But I had this added, here," she said, gesturing to the hanging just opposite the bed (a lovely, wide, low thing covered in fine white linens). It was red, and with golden thread had been embroidered the visage of the Lion. I went to it, and ran my fingers over the lovely work.

"Oh, Queen Lucy," I breathed. "It's beautiful. But it's far too fine to have just been done these past two days."

She smiled. "You are right. I did it myself. It was to be a wedding present for Susan, had she married Rabadash. To remind her of home. For you, may it serve as a reminder of the Lion, and may you think kindly upon Narnia and upon Archenland, your new home."

I looked again at the work. The detail was exquisite, carried out with much labour, and love. "You know Aslan well, don't you?" I asked.

"He knows me," she replied.

I took her hand. "Your kindness overwhelms me," I said. "You give me a gift you made for your sister."

Lucy smiled. "Narnia was not my home, yet now I can imagine no other," she said. "Archenland was not your home, yet it is now. We have much in common, you and me. I should like to be friends."

"I'd like that, too, Your Majesty."

"None of that," she laughed, "Or I shall be always calling you Tarkheena, Aravis. Call me Lucy."

"Lucy," I said. "Is there anything I can change into? I have been wearing these clothes since Tashbaan, and the only other clothing I own was my brother Kadmel's armor."

Lucy looked up at my phrasing, and patted my shoulder. "I am sorry. But yes, I asked the Prince Cor about your sizing. All he could say was you were 'shorter than him and slender-ish'. He also said that 'the puniest boy clothes' would fit you quite well."  
>I laughed. "That sounds like him."<p>

Lucy nodded. "Well, I wear men's clothing to the wars, and I was able to guess pretty well. I found a few dresses for you. I'm afraid they won't be what you're used to…"

I shook my head, "Oh, but what you're wearing is so much prettier," I told her honestly. "So simple. The dress itself is not the work of art, but instead is meant to display you- the real thing. Lucy, you _are_ lovely."

She blushed prettily. "You should see Susan. Anyway, the wardrobe is over here. On such short notice I could only find a few I thought would fit you and your colouring. I thought this light green would suit you. I've got a red, too, and an orange…"

She showed me five or six dresses in simple, beautiful cuts. I chose the simplest: a long sleeved green gown with a belt of a deep, rich brown. Lucy helped me with the under-things, which were rather different, though allowing for more movement, than I was used to. When I had donned the dress and run a brush she had got for me through my hair she led me to a looking glass.

Again, I was surprised at the alteration in my appearance since the last time I had seen it before Tashbaan. The dress framed me rather well, and the colour of it was striking against my darker skin. There was the stubborn chin, there the straight nose, the unruly hair I remembered, but the real difference was that, for the first time in what felt like forever, I liked the girl I saw looking back at me in the mirror. She looked a nicer sort of person than the girl I was used to. And more than that, she looked happy.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you liked my grown-up Queen Lucy. She will be making appearances in two more chapters. Edmund will appear twice, and Peter and Susan once before all of the Pevensies vanish out of Narnia, leaving our heroine quite forlorn. I'm reasonably confident about handling them, but I'm crossing my fingers about Corin Thunder-fist. He shows up in the very next chapter and I'm really not sure if I can cope with his complex mixture of chivalry and brashness. Leave a review!**

**God Bless!**

**L.M. Sharp**


	13. A New Home

**Disclaimer: **_**The Horse and His Boy**_** was authored by C.S. Lewis. **_**The Sun on My Face**_** is an amateur fanfiction taking place in his universe with his characters. I'm borrowing them, and I'm not getting paid for it.**

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><p>Chapter Thirteen<p>

Just then, there was a knock at the door. I went through to the sitting room and opened it to see a boy, that had I not known Cor had a twin, I might have taken for him. I curtsied.

"Prince Corin," I said.

He bowed, much more gracefully but somehow more off-handedly than Cor did. "You're the Lady Aravis," he said, giving me the once-over. "You're shorter than I would have thought."

I heard Lucy, behind me, giggle. I stiffened, and Lucy spoke. "Aravis, don't mind him. Corin always says what he thinks, and does not consider what others may think of his forthrightness."

I relaxed. "Can I help you?" I asked the Prince.

Corin smiled, revealing a missing tooth. "Yes, you can. You see, I find myself rather hungry, but Father says we aren't to eat a bite until you two ladies join us. So he sent me to see if you were ready for the midday meal, and to escort you both to the terrace if you were, and if you weren't, to wait until you were and escort you then. So, could you please tell me if you are ready to eat?" He looked at me hopefully, and despite myself I smiled at him.

"I had finished seeing all of the Queen Lucy's lovely work and making myself ready just as you knocked, your Highness," I said. "So if you like, we can go down immediately and both eat."

"Excellent!" Corin said. "Queen Lucy? Lady Aravis? Shall we?" He offered us an arm each, and Lucy took it, and smiled encouragingly at me. I did the same, and the three of us began to walk.

Corin was the same height as his brother, and possessed the same wispy blonde hair (though better barbered) and the same colour eyes. But there were several little differences I noticed between him and Cor, so that I knew I should (at least for now) be able to tell them both apart. For one thing, there was the missing tooth, and a fading yellowish bruise around one eye. For another, Corin, having lived in Archenland rather than in Calormen all of his life, was substantially paler than his brother. In addition to being just the slightest bit more muscular, he also carried with him an air of confidence and humour that I supposed came with being loved and well-educated instead of hit and looked down upon his whole life.

As the three of us walked, Lucy kept silent, watching the two of us, and Corin spoke. "I _am_ glad you've come to live here, Lady Aravis," he said. "Though it's all a lot to take in. A brother and a new friend all in two days. I always wanted a brother- you know I didn't know about Cor until Father told us both yesterday. The four at the Cair are good friends and true," –here he nodded at Lucy- "But they can't always be around, you know, and they are a good bit older than me. But with Cor, and you on top of it all," He grinned in anticipation. "I reckon the three of us will have some good times, don't you?"

I hadn't thought of it like that, and I found myself liking the idea. "For me," I told him, "I was always running away from something. I never got around to thinking, until perhaps yesterday, what on earth I was going _to_. Now I'm overwhelmed that there seems to be a whole life and many friends for me here. The notion that we _can_ have good times-that there's even a 'we' to have them- it's all so new, and so wonderful!"

Lucy smiled. "I hope and think that there will be many pleasant surprises in your future, Aravis. You are at that time of life when the world is opening up before you, and in you this is exaggerated more than in most young girls. It will give me joy to watch you grow up."

Corin made a face. "You were much too young to be getting married anyway. Cor told me about you- a girl like you should be playing at archery with the Queens Susan and Lucy and riding in the hills and having knock-out, drag-out rows with other kids." He grinned. "And now you can." He winked. "I'll be glad to be of service."

"You're like him," I said suddenly. "Shas- Cor, I mean. And yet you're not."

"Well, I'm a different person," Corin said reasonably. "But how do you mean?"

"You speak like him," I said. "The way you ramble on. But Cor's more…more serious. And of course he won't know even a little of what you know."

Corin smiled in rapture, rolling his eyes back comically. "Oh, he's been going _on_ about that," he said. " 'Education' with a capital E! I've been encouraging it; it'll be awful fun to see HIM learn letters and politics and etiquette and hate it all when I already have been through most of that rot, but it won't be near as bad as I'm letting him think."

"Corin! For shame!" Lucy scolded, but her eyes were dancing.

"Shh!" Corin said. "We're here. Queen Lucy- don't spoil it! Aravis?" He looked at me pleadingly. I raised my eyebrows at him.

The terrace was an open, flagstone paved area set above a lovely garden full of plants I had never seen before, because it was too warm in Calormen to grow them. The flowers bloomed in blue and yellow and pink glory, not in neat rows or in a hothouse, but in a lovely, tangled jungle of winding paths and climbing roses. Behind this I could see the wall of Anvard, and behind this- the blue glories of the western mountains.

King Lune came forward to greet me, and Cor with him. "Ah, Queen Lucy, little Lady Aravis, it is good you have joined us," said the King. "I do hope my son has not made himself too troublesome."

"Ah, he is a knave, Sire, a knave indeed," Lucy said with a laugh.

"But we shall get on well, I think," I said.

Food was set out upon a wide table covered with a white cloth, and around it there were several people I did not know. King Lune introduced them.

"Lady Aravis, you have met the Queen Lucy of Narnia, meet now her brother, King Edmund, called the Just." He presented me to the dark-haired, fair-faced young man that had mistaken Cor for Corin in Tashbaan. I curtsied deeply, and he lifted my hand and kissed it.

"Dear lady," he said, "I have heard of your bravery and of how you have forsaken your home and country for our sake and for the sake of our friends here in Archenland. I am honoured to make your acquaintance."

His eyes were kind like Lucy's, if graver in aspect. I liked him immediately, and more than that, I respected him. "The honour is all mine, sir," I said softly.

King Lune nodded in satisfaction, and said, "This here is the Lord Peridan, of Narnia, here the Lords Dar and Darrin, nobles of the court here." He indicated by turn a fair-haired, bearded man in his thirties, and two brothers about the same age as the King, clad in finely woven tunics with jeweled rings. I realized these must be his advisors, and they bowed to me. I curtsied to them as well, but I saw the Lord Darrin frown slightly at the Calormene style of it.

We sat down to the meal- I was seated between Corin and the King. The meal was of cold meat, bread, and cheese, served with a light wine I thought very good. While we ate, the monarchs and nobles talked of trade and of Lucy and King Edmund's brother- the High King Peter of Narnia, and his campaign against the giants North of Narnia. It was a pleasant and interesting conversation, without any tedious proverbs, where no one reprimanded me (or Cor) for asking questions. In fact, when we spoke, the King was pleased to answer us.

When we had finished, though, and the meal had been taken away by servants (free people all, whom King Lune greeted by name and with a smile) Lune frowned, though. "Heigh-ho! We have still that sorry creature Rabadash on our hands, my friends, and must needs resolve what to do with him."

The Lord Peridan frowned. "Your Majesty would have a perfect right to strike off his head. Such an assault as he made puts him on a level with assassins."

"It is very true," agreed King Edmund, "But even a traitor may mend. I have known one that did." He looked off into the distance, but the interesting thing was how Peridan looked awkward.

"To kill this Rabadash would go near to raising war with the Tisroc," said Lord Darrin cautiously.

"A fig for the Tisroc," King Lune said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "His strength is in numbers and numbers will never cross the desert. But I have no stomach for killing men (even traitors) in cold blood. To have cut his throat in battle would have eased my heart mightily: but this is a different thing."

"By my counsel, Your Majesty shall give him another trial," said Lucy. "Let him go free on strait promise of fair dealing in the future. It may be that he will keep his word."

King Edmund looked as doubtful as I felt. "Maybe Apes will grow honest, Sister," he said. Then he looked like he was considering it. "But, by the Lion, if he breaks it again, may it be in such time and place that any of us could swap off his head in clean battle."

King Lune sighed. "It shall be tried." He spoke to one of the attendants. "Send for the prisoner, friend."

When Rabadash came in, he looked dreadful, though Cor had told me on the way over how nicely he had been treated. I assumed that he had spent the night yelling about the indignity of his capture- it was the kind of thing he often did in Tashbaan when he did not get his way. He stood there in his chains glaring out at us all.

"Your royal Highness needs not to be told," said King Lune, "That by the law of nations as well as by all reasons of prudent policy, we have as good right to your head as ever one mortal man had against another. Nevertheless, in consideration of your youth and the ill nurture, devoid of all gentilesse and courtesy, which you have doubtless had in the land of slaves and tyrants-" (I frowned, and Cor looked at me awkwardly, but we both could say nothing- it was true that Rabadash had been spoiled, that Calormen had slaves, and that the Tisroc was a tyrant) "we are disposed to set you free, unharmed, on these conditions: first, that-"

Rabadash cut him off angrily. "Curse you for a barbarian dog! Do you think I will even ear your conditions?" He scoffed. "You talk very largely of nurture and I know not what. It's easy, to a man in chains, ha! Take off these vile bonds, and let any of you who dares then debate with me." All the men save Lune and Edmund sprang up at these insults, and Corin, too. He cried out,

"Father! Can I _box_ him? Please?"

"Peace!" said King Lune in a carrying voice. "Your Majesties! My Lords!" Everyone save Corin sat. "Have we no more gravity among us than to be so chafed by the taunt of a pajock? Sit down, Corin, or shalt leave the table. I ask your Highness again, to hear our conditions."

Rabadash fumed. "I hear no conditions from barbarians and sorcerers," he declared. "Not one of you dare touch a hair of my head. Every insult you have heaped on me shall be paid with oceans of Narnian and Archenlandish blood. Terrible shall the vengeance of the Tisroc be even now. But kill me, and the burnings and torturings in these northern lands shall become a tale to frighten the world a thousand years hence. Beware! Beware! Beware! The bolt of Tash falls from above!"

I yearned to call his bluff, to tell everyone present how the Tisroc had sworn that he would not avenge Rabadash. And Corin said, "Does it ever get caught on a hook halfway?"

I bit back a laugh, but King Lune said, "Shame, Corin. Never taunt a man save when he is stronger than you: then, as you please."

Rabadash seemed unable to decide who he wanted to glare at most: Corin or King Lune.

"Oh, you foolish Rabadash," said Lucy sadly.

Behind her then, I saw the Lion. I rose with everyone at the table, and watched him pace towards Rabadash.

"Rabadash," said Aslan in a rumbling growl, "Take heed. Your doom is very near, but you may still avoid it. Forget your pride (what have you to be proud of?) and your anger (who has done you wrong?) and accept the mercy of these good kings."

Rabadash rolled his eyes at Aslan and wagged his ears with a horrible, long grin. I had seen him make these faces before at those he despised at court- something particularly nasty had usually happened to them afterward- but here on the terrace in Archenland he just looked singularly stupid. "Demon! Demon! Demon!" He shrieked at Aslan. "I know you. You are the foul fiend of Narnia. You are the enemy of the gods. Learn who _I_ am, horrible phantasm. I am descended from Tash, the inexorable, the irresistible. The curse of Tash is upon you. Lightning in the shape of scorpions shall be rained on you. The mountains of Narnia shall be ground into dust. The-"

"Have a care, Rabadash," said Aslan, not angry or frightened at all by Rabadash's raving. "The doom is nearer now: it is at the door; it has lifted the latch."

This maddened Rabadash all the more. "Let the skies fall!" he shrieked. "Let the earth gape! Let blood and fire obliterate the world! But be sure I will never desist till I have dragged to my palace by her hair the barbarian queen, the daughter of dogs, the-"

He did not finish, for Aslan said, "The hour has struck," and he began to change. His waggling ears began to lengthen oddly, and to point, and were soon covered with grey hair. Cor was the first to laugh- I think he recognized the new ears before anyone else did- but shortly thereafter I began to grin, too. Rabadash's face lengthened, his eyes widened and became stupid and mean, and all of it was covered with the grey hair, too. Then his arms grew longer and his hands turned hard and then into hoofs, and his clothes disappeared, and then, in not half a minute, Rabadash had become what he had always been: unmistakably an Ass.

But as he realized it, he began to cry, "Oh, not a Donkey! Mercy! If it were even a horse- e'en- a- hor-eeh-auh-eeeh-auh-eeh-auh." Then I realized this was both a funny and a terrible punishment.

"Now hear me, Rabadash," said Aslan, more loudly. "Justice shall be mixed with mercy. You shall not always be an Ass."

His ears twitched forward to listen better, and I couldn't help spluttering with more laughter.

"You have appealed to Tash, and in the temple of Tash you shall be healed. You must stand before the altar of Tash in Tashbaan at the great Autumn Feast this year and there, in the sight of all Tashbaan, your ass' shape will fall from you and all men will know you for Prince Rabadash. But as long as you live, if ever you go more than ten miles away from the great temple in Tashbaan you shall instantly become again as you now are. And from that second change there will be no return."

We fell silent, looked around, and then Aslan was gone. But the air shone, and there was the Donkey, and so I knew I had indeed seen Him once again.

"Your royal Highness," said King Lune, gazing upon his enemy. Unaccountably, I saw pity in his gaze. "I am most truly sorry that things have come to this extremity. Your Highness will bear witness that it was none of our doing. And of course we shall be delighted to provide Your Highness with shipping back to Tashbaan for the- er-treatment which Aslan has prescribed. You shall have every comfort which your Highness' situation allows: the best of the cattle-boats- the freshest carrots and thistles-"

The donkey let out a high pitched bray and aimed a kick at the guard, only deflected by a well-timed use of the shield.

"It's no use, Your Majesty," said King Edmund. "By my counsel, you should treat with him no more and simply send him home. You'll only drive yourself to distraction."

King Lune sighed, but gestured to the guards. "Lead him away," he said.

* * *

><p>After Rabadash was gone everyone became a good deal happier. King Lune ordered the cooks to begin cooking, and lanterns to be set out upon the great lawn before Anvard, and a table to be laid. The musicians were sent for. There was to be a great feast. "For my son is found again," he said, "And our enemies are defeated, and new friends have come to us. Shalt not we make celebration?"<p>

Lucy helped me to make alteration to the nicest dress she'd had sent for in my wardrobe, and having taken my measurements, sent for a great many more- more, in fact, than I particularly thought I needed. She shook her head at me. "Oh, you know the clothes themselves aren't important, but there are a number of occasions you'll run into here at Anvard, and you will not believe the difference being well dressed can make to your confidence," she told me. "I confess, I have never cared too much for finery myself, but Susan taught me that when one must make a good impression, but one is quaking in one's boots, dressing the part makes all the difference in the world. All the more for you. You have a great many good impressions to make, I'm afraid."

I looked in the mirror at my disordered hair and thin face, and Lucy put an arm around my shoulders. "But you will make them, Aravis. You will see and conquer: I'd swear to it!"

When Lucy was done with me, my hair and dark complexion shone, and my purple dress fit me to perfection. But as I looked at her simple white gown and scarlet girdle, I felt myself far outshone. Her beauty was not in her neat attire or well-ordered hair (far better-behaved than I knew I could ever hope to get mine) but in her peaceful, kindly, laughing face. It fairly radiated goodness, in an almost visible aura of light that hung about her. I hoped one day that I, too, could be so good.

We descended to the lawn to find the food already arriving, and Corin's fine tunic already stained with the grass after a friendly tussle he'd gotten into with one of the serving lads after a game of Tag. But he (and the serving lad) were smiling like anything, and he looked every inch the Prince.

Cor did not. His tunic was immaculate, but it hung on him awkwardly, and he slouched, as if uncomfortable in it. He sat next to Queen Lucy, two places removed from Lune's right hand, and I could see his every muscle was tense. A sort of half smile played on his face. I could see that he wanted to enjoy himself very much, but was still not quite sure he belonged here.

The meal was splendid. We ate roast pork, fresh vegetables and fruit, fine white bread with the best of cheeses, and lovely fruit ices after to cool the summer night. We drank rich, sweet wine, that loosened tongues and made for full conversations.

We settled down then for the entertainment. When King Lune called for the fiddler and the poet I looked at Cor despairingly, and he returned it. I expected a morality lecture in longwinded parables, but instead, I was pleasantly surprised when the poet began to sing to a rollicking, jubilant song about an old hero of Archenland and how he fought a giant as tall as a mountain and so rescued a fair lady and won her to wife. It was catchy and joyous and towards the last chorus I found myself joining in with Corin, the Queen Lucy, and yes, even Cor.

Bree and Hwin were there at the table, talking and laughing right along with us. Both ate the grass at times, though they also had been provided with carrots, apples, and sugar. After the song of the giant, Bree, feeling much more at ease, told everyone about one of the battles he had fought in Calormen.

After that, there was more music- a tale of a great Queen of Narnia so beautiful that she could look into a pond, and the pond, for love of her beauty, would reflect her image back for an entire year afterwards.

"That was in the old days," Lucy said after the ballad was done. "Before the White Witch came."

"Oh, Queen Lucy," cried Corin, "_Do_ tell us of War Drobe and how you and the others came to Narnia."

"But, Prince Corin, you must have heard that story at least three dozen times," Lucy laughed.

"But it's such a jolly good story- especially the fight at Beruna. And Cor and Aravis haven't heard it!" he replied. "Tell it for _them,_ please?"

"You weren't always in Narnia, Your Majesty?" asked Cor, surprised.

"Indeed we weren't, Your Highness," said King Edmund. "Sister, you might as well go on."

Lucy nodded at Edmund, and she began. She told a marvelous tale of Another Place, quite different from our world, where machines flew in the sky and she, and her older siblings Peter, Susan, and Edmund, had been mere schoolchildren taking refuge from the horrible weapons of fire their country's enemies dropped with an old learned man.

She told how this learned man had had a Wardrobe, and how one day she had gone into it, to feel the fur coats inside as she had liked to do as a child. She had stumbled into a Wood-into Narnia- and met a faun named Mr. Tumnus. She told how she had discovered of the curse the White Witch had placed on the country of Narnia, and how she had carried the news back to her siblings. She told how they hadn't believed her, until Edmund, and later all of them, had gotten into Narnia, too.

She told, in sad tones, how Edmund had been deceived by the White Witch and had become a traitor, and how he had left her and the others and the Witch had tortured him and tried to kill him. She wept (and Edmund did, too) as she recounted how Aslan had paid the price for Edmund's treachery and bought him back from the White Witch with his own willing death. Her voice rose in triumph as she told how she and Susan had saw Death work backwards, and how Aslan had returned, and gone to the High King Peter's aid at Beruna, where Edmund had nearly died destroying the White Witch's magic, and Aslan had killed her for good.

It was the most fantastic, wonderful, beautiful story I had heard in my life. I cried in despair and laughed for joy during the course of it, and when it was over I wished that the Queen Lucy could tell it again and again and again. But before I could ask her, the King said,

"Now, you three: Cor, Corin, Aravis, it is time that youth were in bed. Go now. We shall see you all in the morning. And tomorrow, Cor, shalt come over all the castle with me and see the estres and mark all its strength and weakness: for it will be thine to guard when I'm gone."

Cor turned very pale in the lamplight, and I realized that this was the first he had heard of his impending kingship. "But Corin will be King then, Father," he said nervously.

"Nay, lad. Thou art my heir. The crown comes to thee," Lune said seriously.

"But I don't want it," protested Cor. "I'd far rather-"

"'Tis no question what thou wantest, Cor, nor I either. 'Tis in the course of law."

Corin began to grin, as Cor went on arguing, "But if we're twins we must be the same age."

"Nay," laughed King Lune. "One must come first. Art Corin's elder by full twenty minutes. And his better too, let's hope, though that's no great mastery." But he grinned at Corin, and Corin stuck out his tongue impudently.

"But, Father, couldn't you make whichever you like to be the next King?" asked Cor desperately, and I began to laugh quietly.

"No. The king's under the law, for it's the law makes him a king. Hast no more power to start away from thy crown than any sentry from his post."

"Oh dear," fretted Cor, and now everyone was laughing about it. "I don't want to at all. And Corin- I am most dreadfully sorry. I never dreamed my turning up was going to chisel you out of your kingdom."

But Corin had been looking more and more delighted, and now he whooped aloud. "Hurrah! Hurrah! I shan't have to be King. I shan't have to be King. I'll always be a Prince." He crossed his arms and said impishly, "It's princes have all the fun."

"And that's truer than thy brother knows, Cor," said Lune with a smile. "For this is what it means to be king: to be first in every desperate attack and last in every desperate retreat, and when there's hunger in the land (as must be now and then in bad years) to wear finer clothes and laugh louder over a scantier meal than any man in your land. Now go. All three of you. To bed."

Cor was frowning as the three of us left. I nudged him. "Didn't you know you were going to be king?" I asked. "Everyone else did."

"No," he replied, irritated. "I've had very little time to take all of this in. No one mentioned, 'Hullo, Sha-Cor, that is, not only do you have to be _educated _but you also have to take care of this whole great country one day'. I mean, who do they think I am? The whole place would collapse in a fortnight!"

Corin pushed him lightly. "It won't be that bad, brother," he said. "I was going to have to do it, and they weren't that worried. You've already saved the 'whole place' and you can't even carry a sword properly!"

"This is me," I said, turning off at my corridor. Cor nodded distractedly.

"'Night, then. We've another flight of steps." Cor and Corin began walking, and I heard him ask as they went, "Corin…are you sure I'll have to be King? Can't you do anything?"

I laughed to myself as Corin responded irritably, and went to my room.

* * *

><p>The next morning I rose early: The Narnians, Hwin and Bree were leaving soon. I dressed quickly and, after about half an hour lost in the corridors of Anvard, finally found the kitchens and some breakfast. I thanked the cook (Maddie, her name was) for getting it for me, and for the night before's sumptuous feat. I resolved as I got lost again on the way out to the lawn to spend the next two weeks getting to know the castle like the back of my hand.<p>

The King Edmund, Queen Lucy, and the Lord Peridan were all saddled up and ready to go when I got there: over the hill I saw what must have been the army stowing bags and getting ready to go as well. King Lune was there, and Cor and Corin, and there, just behind the Lord Peridan, were Hwin and Bree, all set to go home.

"You will come back, won't you?" Cor was asking.

"Of course, cousins, you are welcome here always," the King seconded kindly.

"Aravis," said Hwin in greeting, walking forward.

I patted her neck. "Hwin, do promise you'll come back to Anvard sometime," I added to the others' pleas.

"Of course we'll come back, Prince Cor, Aravis," said Bree. "You're our friends, aren't you? We've been through rather too much, I should say, to just say Tata and amble over the pass and out of your lives for good. "

"Of course they'll come back," Lucy said. "And you all must come to Cair Paravel, and soon. Our brother the High King will make you very good cheer."

"So this isn't good-bye, not really," I said, comforted.

"No," said King Edmund. "Our friends never leave us in truth. This today, is just farewell, Aslan keep you, and we shall see you again very soon."

I smiled at him, and he, Lucy, Lord Peridan, and Bree began to move away. But Hwin hesitated. She turned to King Lune and Corin. "If I may say so," she said carefully. "I'm very grateful for what you are doing for the Tarkheena. She has been through so much, more than any girl her age should have had to go through. Please, for the love of the Lion, take care of her. Love her, as one of your very own."

Corin looked uncharacteristically solemn, and nodded. King Lune bowed deep. "I understand you have been with the Lady for a long time, Madam Hwin," he said. "Your love and care for her does you great credit. Truly, I swear, the Lady Aravis shalt be as my own family, for her friendship to my son, and on her own merit."

I pressed my lips together then, trying not to cry. Hwin gave one nod, and followed after the others. I watched the Narnian army, led by the bright figures in armor that were Edmund and Peridan, and the crimson-clad Queen Lucy, disappear over the mountains under the banner of the red lion.

Then I turned, and Cor smiled at me, and the King Lune offered his arm, and he and his two sons and I went within once more to Anvard, my home.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So ends the explicit action in HHB. From here on out its all my imagination, with very vague guidelines from Lewis. I know only that Bree and Hwin get married, but not to one another, that they and the inmates of Anvard stay friends, that the Pevensies eventually go back to England, that Rabadash becomes a peaceful Tisroc, and that Cor (WHY, Jack? WHY the DREADFUL name in place of the perfectly good Shasta?) and Aravis quarrel frequently but get married anyway and have a son named Ram. Not much to go on. But enough. I've in mind to write six or seven chapters or so in the manner of short-stories: things that happened in the five years or so that I guess happened between the end of the action and the marriage. These will be 1)Aravis adjusting to life in the North: featuring the Pevensies, Cor, Corin, Lord Darrin, and a duke from Galma. 2) Aravis' first birthday in the North, SPECIAL POV Hwin: featuring her, her husband, Aravis, Cor, Corin, and King Lune. 3) The departure of the Pevensies: featuring Aravis, Cor, Corin, King Lune, the Lord Peridan, Aslan, Bree and his wife. 4) A failed trade negotiation taking place in Aravis' sixteenth year: featuring Aravis, Cor, three knights and a lady from the Lone Islands, and King Lune. 5) The proposal: featuring Bree, Bree's wife, Hwin, her husband and her colt, Corin, King Lune, and of course Cor and Aravis, and 6) The wedding: featuring Aravis, Cor, the Horses, Corin, King Lune, and three very special guests I shan't tell you about here. I hope through this to give a general picture of how things might have played out over all that time Lewis left out and to end in a comedy: that is, in order and marriage. If you don't care to follow, I shall understand, and I thank you for coming this far. If you stick with me, I promise this will be the longest author's note I'll ever leave. ;)**

**God Bless!**

**L.**


	14. Lessons Hard and Lessons Easy

**Disclaimer: We are coming to some fairly original innovations. Fwirra and Duke Terril, for example, are OCs. But I'm still just tacking them on to Lewis' characters and sticking them in his world. So I still can't claim the story. Darn.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Fourteen<p>

We had not been at Anvard a month, but I could have sworn Prince Cor had complained of his lessons with the Lord Darrin every day- sometimes two or three times in a day. To tell the truth, I was well sick of it, and one day I ventured to tell him so. He was going on about how tedious it was sitting in the old classroom with Lord Darrin poring over books of letters and sums, and hearing him go _on _about such and such an old king and how to bow to a duke rather than an earl of Galma.

"Will you _shut up_ about it!" I cried at last. "I mean, come on! It can't be worse than mending nets or whatever you did as a peasant in Calormen, and to be sure, you need the knowledge! I've scarce met a more ignorant boy, and right now you are certainly the whiniest."

Cor's eyes widened, and he reddened. "Like you can talk," he spluttered. "You just sit around gossiping with the maid all day, playing tricks with Corin, or talking to Father! You've nothing remotely difficult to do!"

"If I _did_," I snapped, "I wouldn't sit and moan about it, I can tell you! I'd spend my time doing the task and trying to make things better for myself."

"Why don't you?" he demanded. "You're as new to Archenland as I am! You don't know anymore about its history and culture than I do. But I don't see you taking lessons."

"I can _read_," I said coldly. "I can learn it for myself."

He snorted. "I'm learning," he said. "Sure, I'm being forced to do it, but I am making an effort. You say you can learn about Archenland for yourself. Are you?" He crossed his arms. "I don't think you are."

"I already have an excellent education," I said, going stiff. "I'm no untaught former-peasant."

"No," he said. "You're a snobby Calormene princess too lazy to learn what's important in her new home who _will _go on and criticize a fellow for complaining when _he_ finds it a bit difficult."

I stood, casting aside the embroidery I was doing of Hwin, Bree, Cor and I in the desert. "Well if _that's_ how you feel I shan't waste my time talking to you."

"Don't," Cor shot back. "It'll give me some much-needed peace!"

"Ugh!" I cried in disgust, beginning to leave the room before remembering it was my own sitting room. "Get out, _Your Highness_," I said, shaping the words into a mockery.

"With pleasure, _Tarkheena_," he returned just as venomously, sweeping out of the room.

I kicked the chair he had been sitting at and sat down, fuming. Of all the cheek! He'd been the one moaning! And I'd listened past anyone else! Corin had knocked him down for all his complaining last week! And he actually had the nerve to go around and say _I_ was at fault. Well, he'd see if I'd be sympathetic again. Dreadful boy! I wouldn't speak to him. He'd like that!

* * *

><p>A week later, I still wasn't speaking to Cor. It wasn't my fault. If Cor had come and apologized at any point in time, of course, I would have been perfectly willing to be friends again, but he had not. In fact, at times it seemed more as if <em>he<em> weren't speaking to _me_ than as if I weren't speaking to him! This was very irritating, especially when King Lune called Cor, Corin, and I to him and told us that the four sovereigns of Narnia had invited the three of us for a visit, and that he was disposed to let us go.

Cor had looked excited. "Shall I not have to study while we are in Narnia?" he had asked eagerly.

King Lune had laughed. "Thou art not five weeks into thy lessons and art already so anxious to be rid of them? Let thy anxiety mold thee into a better pupil. Nay, Cor, the Lord Darrin says you are doing well, but even Corin, years ahead of thee, is not to be let off for a fortnight and more, for such is the time shalt stay in Narnia, I guess. Your tutor will accompany you."

Now we rode over the mountains, the three of us, behind the Lord Darrin to Narnia. The pass was dreadfully narrow, and the cliff to our left terribly steep. The Lord Darrin every now and then called back information to us, telling us who had passed this way and when, or what that particular plant growing out of the rock face was and what were its uses. Darrin was stricter and quieter than his loud, humorous brother Dar, but he was an excellent teacher. The things he said had a tendency to stick in one's head- and he wasn't even my tutor. Indeed, I rather thought he disliked me. Sometimes I would catch him looking at me beneath his thick yellow brows as if I were a problem particularly perplexing that he did not exactly care for.

For all that he seemed to dislike me, I had nothing against the Lord Darrin, and if I had not been on the outs with Cor, I should have enjoyed the trip. The air as we went through the pass became cold and crisp: delicious to breathe. The sky was so blue that it almost hurt to look at. Summer was fading away into autumn, then, a beautiful sunset of an autumn.

But I could not enjoy it. Cor would not speak to me, I was resolved not to break my silence and speak to him, and as a result, Corin was put out with the both of us.

"You're both being perfect beasts, you know," he said in a low voice lest Lord Darrin hear us. "Look, I don't know what you two quarreled over, but I'm pretty sure it isn't worth all this rot. All this glaring and sulkiness, it's depressing, and I don't care what problem you two have with each other, but it's no fun for me now, too. Are you angry at _me_?"

"I have no quarrel with you, Corin." I said. "Lovely afternoon, is it not? Tell me, what's Narnia like?"

Corin's eyes flashed, and Cor flushed. "No," Corin said firmly. "That's no good, either. I'll not be a weapon, Aravis, and that's that. You talk to both of us, or you oughtn't to talk at all. That's just plain meanness."

"Thanks, Corin," Cor said. "_Some_ people just don't understand common decency."

"By the Mane!" Corin said. "You're as bad as _she_ is! But, brother, if you go on like that I _can_ knock you down, and I shall. But I can see it's no use talking to the either of you. Let me know when you've decided to make it up and be sensible, will you?" And with that he spurred his little mountain pony on to join Lord Darrin, gazing back at the two of us half in scorn, half in pity.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cor's face twist in guilt, and I grit my teeth against it and rode on in silence.

We came down from the pass in a green meadow, and without warning, Cor suddenly spurred his pony up to the Lord Darrin.

"Sir," I heard him say. "I've some friends, a family of dwarves, just over the next hill. It's about time we stopped for dinner- do you think we could share our food with them, and I could say hullo and see how they're doing?"

"But of course, Your Highness," said Lord Darrin. "'Tis well thought of. Was it here, then, where you found yourself after you got lost at the crossroads and found the stag to warn King Edmund?"

"Well, that was mostly accidental," Cor admitted, "But yes, sir. It was."

I scowled. Cor had never told me that he had stayed with a family of dwarves in Narnia. For some reason I felt personally slighted, then I wondered why on earth I should. It wasn't like Cor should tell me everything. Then I was angry at myself.

There were three Dwarves, all brothers that lived in a tiny house on the other side of the hill. Their names were Duffle, Rogin, and Bricklethumb, and they were unlike any people I had ever met before. They were shorter, but stouter, and much wilder looking than men. Their hair and beards were like fox-fur, and they dressed in leather and had little, horny hands that I knew just from looking at were capable of great strength and craftsmanship.

They were delighted to see Cor- though they at first greeted him as Shasta- and even more delighted to learn that the peasant boy in rags they'd befriended and lodged for a day a month ago was the long-lost Prince of Archenland.

"I thought he looked familiar, Prince Corin," said Rogin as we shared dinner- on our part bread, cheese, and wine, and on theirs hot sausages and rich potatoes. "But he didn't look like any Prince when he was here, let me tell you, all rags and faintin' from mortal hunger, he was. Just goes to show, I say, that you never know."

Cor was very happy to see the dwarves, too, and he chattered away to them about the autumn and how the High King had trounced the giants and about the siege of Anvard. Corin waxed eloquent, too, especially about the battle, and Lord Darrin lectured for a while on the political ramifications of King Peter's defeat of the giants. I found that I didn't know what to say, however.

I knew nothing of the security in Narnia, or how dwarf etiquette differed from court manners at Anvard. When we left, I was presented with a cleverly made little belt knife and had not the faintest idea of the proper reply until Corin said it for me ("Thank you, Masters Duffle, Rogin, and Bricklethumb, she will wield it well, and its fine craftsmanship will speak for you wherever she goes") I just stood there feeling awkward, and I curtsied as best I knew how. The dwarves said it was nothing, but raised their eyebrows at me slightly, and the Lord Darrin sighed and rubbed his chin. I had curtsied in the Calormene manner.

* * *

><p>Lucy came out to meet us at the gate of Cair Paravel late that night. It was too dark by then to see much but the moon glittering off of the sea and off the windows of the towers, but I could make out that the Cair was a castle bigger, if slightly newer, than Anvard.<p>

"Greetings, friends," she said happily. "Welcome back, Corin, Lord Darrin. And you, Prince Cor, Lady Aravis, welcome to Cair Paravel. 'Tis my pleasure to greet you. I have been seeing to it that your rooms are in order. I can show you to them- I know you must be tired. My brothers, sister, and I will see you in the morning, after you all have rested from your journey."

She led us through shining corridors, brighter, but not so homely as at Anvard. Cor and Corin were placed in a room together, and next to theirs the Lord Darrin had his room, and across the hall from him I had mine, so that he could hear any of us and come should we call for anything. I found my room with a great, wide, canopied bed, a comfortable green armchair and a roaring fire. In front of the armchair was laid a light supper. I sank into the chair and into my meal, and almost immediately afterwards, fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke fresh, and dressed in one of the gowns that had been left in the wardrobe for me- I sensed Lucy's hand- the gown fit me to perfection. I looked out my window, and saw the sea below, shining like a jewel in the rising sun. I opened the pane and it seemed I heard an unearthly music. If I looked hard, I saw where it came from: silver tails and bright yellow hair splashed among the rocks just off-shore.

A knock sounded at my door. I opened it to see Lucy. She smiled at me and embraced me. I hugged her tight. "Oh, Queen Lucy, it _is_ good to see you," I said. "This room is delightful. Oh- this _place_ is just simply glorious!"

"You are up, then," she said, with a laugh. "Good. Will you come and get the others with me? My brothers and sister are anxious to meet with you all."

I smiled. On this morning I could be happy even to see Cor. Lucy rapped on the door of Lord Darrin's room, and I knocked upon Cor and Corin's.

Corin flung the door wide and darted out. He seized me by the hands and spun around. "The air is clear, and the mer-folk are singing!" he cried. "Good morning, Aravis! Welcome to Narnia! And isn't it lovely?"  
>I laughed in joyful delight and he twirled me around. Cor came out, smiling as well, and I sighed. I let go of Corin, walked over to Cor, and held out my hand. "Cor?"<p>

He took it. "Aravis."

"I'm tired of being angry with you," I explained simply.

He shrugged. "It's kind of hard to be angry here, this morning, isn't it? Sorry I was insulting. Shall we just forget about the whole thing then?"

I nodded wearily. "It was a stupid fight, anyway."

Corin put an arm around each of us. "You're both stupid, then," he said cheerfully. "Look, Queen Lucy's got Lord Darrin up. Shall we?"

The four of us followed Lucy down several flights of stairs to a wide, yellow-tiled room with a little table. A large, stain-glassed window made up almost one whole wall, and the light came in and lit the entire room with bright, cheery colours. Three people sat at the table, which was laid for seven. As we entered, they rose. I recognized King Edmund, and he bowed at us with a smile.

Then the two others came forward. They were both stunning. The woman was perhaps the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Her shining ebony hair was plaited, wound, and rewound about her finely shaped head atop a long, slender, pale neck. She was garbed in blue and scarlet. Every feature was precisely where it should be. Her eyes were big and dark and expressive, her nose perfectly straight, her lips plump and pink. Her figure was gorgeously curved, her hands elegantly boned. I sighed just looking at her, and half understood why Rabadash was willing to lay waste to two lands for her beauty.

But for all of the woman's envy-inspiring beauty, it was the man that grabbed my attention. He was tall and sturdy and his dark blonde hair and the gold circlet thereupon caught the light. But, though he was handsome, the reason I looked at him was much the same reason I looked at Lucy. As goodness and happiness radiated from Lucy, so goodness, strength, and authority radiated from this man. He did not look older than five-and-twenty, but I could see in that first instant that men would fight and die for this man, do so gladly, and wish even that they had six more lives to give to his service.

As Lucy took her place beside her brothers and sister I saw the radiance I had always seen in her increase, and the thought and earnestness in King Edmund's visage burned forth suddenly.

I looked at the stained glass behind them and saw it was an image of the Lion, coming forth out of the sunrise over the sea. The sun hit it then, and the image of Aslan seemed to smile proudly upon the four sovereigns of Narnia. My eyes suddenly stung, and I curtsied deeply, and did not rise. Beside me Cor, Corin, and Darrin bowed and straightened.

"Oh, get up, Aravis," Lucy was saying then, and whatever it was ended, and the radiance had left the faces of the four Narnian monarchs and I could look at them again. "Peter, Susan, this is Cor, Prince of Archenland, and the brave Tarkheena is the Lady Aravis, who flew an unjust marriage and has bound her lot with Archenland, forsaking her family and her country."

"Welcome, friends," the golden-haired man said. "I am Peter, High King here in Narnia. This here is my sister, the Queen Susan, and my brother King Edmund and sister Queen Lucy you know. Sit. Let us dine together, and we shall talk a little."

The High King himself held out my chair for me, and I, trembling, sat. I was seated between the High King and Corin- with Cor at the other end of the table between Lucy and Lord Darrin.

"So," the High King said once food had been brought. "I am but returned from the northlands a fortnight ago, and as such, I find now that I am very much at a loss as to what has happened in the interim in Archenland and beyond the desert. My royal brother and sisters tell me that you, the long lost Prince Cor, showed up in the peasant rags of Calormen and saved Archenland from an attack from my sister Susan's former lover Rabadash. Tell me, your Highness, how all this came to be."

So Cor spoke. He talked of how he had grown up with Arsheesh the fisherman and met up with Bree the night the Tarkaan Anradin came. He recounted how Aslan had forced him and me together, and how we had gotten separated in Tashbaan. Edmund explained how he had mistaken Cor for Corin in Tashbaan, and Corin explained, to the High King's amusement and Queen Susan's grief, what he had actually been doing that day. Cor took up the tale again then and told how a little after he found out how to cross the desert, I had found out while escaping with my friend how Rabadash planned to attack Archenland and Narnia. He told how we had crossed the desert and how he had run alone with the message after the Hermit to King Lune, and then how Aslan had led him on to Narnia, and at last how Corin had found him and brought him to King Lune and everything had come out at last.

I noticed with some amusement how he completely left out him running at the lion. King Lune had told that story so often at court that Cor was heartily sick of it. I took mercy on him and didn't retell it.

"Well, Your Highness, you have had an adventure and no mistake," said the High King after he finished. "And milady Aravis, I cry you mercy. I had not comprehended how brave you were, though my sister sang your praises, until this moment. If ever you need anything at all, I pray you only ask. You have saved our friends at Archenland from a terrible fate, and perhaps our own land, at the cost of your own family and homeland."

"Truly, a most incredible tale," said Queen Susan. "Though it shames me now to realize this Ass Rabadash capable of such knavery. I cannot help but feel in some part responsible for your many sufferings."

"If you are, Queen Susan," said Corin. "You also have to own up to some responsibility in how good things are now. If it weren't for all this, Cor and Aravis might be living somewhere under a rock up here and Father and I would never know." He appeared to think. "That might be better, all things considered."

"Corin!" said Cor.

"Teasing, brother. Then again, I don't really think Queen Susan had much to do with it, begging your pardon, I'm sure. I think that Tisroc wanted an excuse to attack Archenland and Narnia."

Queen Susan's face fell ever so slightly, and I wondered for a brief moment whether it was over the logical conclusion that the Tisroc wanted an excuse to attack Narnia and used her, or its corollary that she and her unearthly beauty hadn't started all the trouble. Then I dismissed the idea as unworthy of me. Queen Susan couldn't possibly be as vain as all that.

"I think you speak the truth, Prince Corin," said Darrin. "The Tarkheena's account of the counsel supports you, at any rate. You've learned your lessons in politics well from me."

"Well that he has, at that, Lord Darrin." said the High King. "On the morrow the duke from Galma will arrive, and stay with us a little. Tell me, Cor, how goes your Highness' lessons in politeness?"

Darrin looked a little apprehensive. Cor answered "Courtesy isn't courtesy that looks learned, Your Majesty."

Susan smiled in delight. "Couldst not have put it better myself, Your Highness! Thou hast a quick pupil, Lord Darrin!"

"His Highness Cor progresses well, in truth," replied Darrin. "But just in case, I shall drill him on international manners this afternoon. And I thank you for your warning, Your Majesty."

"Not at all," said King Peter. "Go. Explore the gardens, enjoy yourselves. We shalt meet again for the evening meal."

* * *

><p>As it turned out, Cor and Corin both had lessons, and the Lord Darrin was teaching them, so the only one truly free to explore and enjoy herself was me. I had already learned at Anvard that monarchs could not do whatever they wanted to all day, and though there were four to divide the paperwork and boon-seekers at Cair Paravel, there were also four to argue about how things should be done best. So I was pretty much left to myself.<p>

Wandering in the terraced garden by the low wall and looking out over it at the shoreline, I found myself rather lonely for the first time in a while. The gardens here were not as expansive as the ones at Anvard: King Lune had told me a few weeks before that his wife had loved flowers and he had kept the gardens lush in her memory. The flowers were smaller and paler than the ones we had in Calormen, too. A cloud had come over the sun now, and a wind blew off the sea. I shivered.

I sat at the bench nearest the eastern wall, under an arbor of dying yellow roses. I was sure I was feeling homesick and lonesome, but I was not sure for where and for whom. I thought of the gardens that went on for miles and miles of sweet smelling fruit trees and wide, gay flowers in fountains of wanton abundance back in Calormen. I thought of my little room back at Anvard. I thought of my Father, rejected that. I thought of Hashafed, and felt a pang. I thought of Lasaraleen and of other acquaintances I would never see again. I thought of Hwin, somewhere in this wide, beautiful country, and Bree, and wondered if they'd come to the Cair sometime while I was here. With a smile I thought of kind, fatherly King Lune, and realized that I missed him more than I had thought I would.

I did not know what or who I wanted, only what I had. The clouds were still gathering, and the wind was growing stronger.

"You'd do well to go inside, milady," said a voice. I looked around for its source, but could see none.

"Who speaks?"

"Over here," said the voice again, a young girl's voice. I looked over in the direction of the voice and saw a slim young birch leaning against the wall. I checked. There was no one about. I looked hard at the tree. I remembered Corin saying once that the trees in Narnia sometimes talked.

"Hullo," I said inquiringly.

"That's right," said the voice, and straight out of the bark walked a girl. She was clad in silvery green, with long, whippy hair. She looked no older than ten. "You look startled, miss."

"Um…" I hesitated. "You spoke to me, tree?"

"Yes. My name is actually Fwirra," she said, making a sound that sounded like the rustle of the wind through leaves. "What's yours?"

"I'm Aravis," I said in amazement. "Where I come from, the trees don't talk."

"How sad," remarked Fwirra. "Am I the first tree you've ever spoken to?"

"Yes," I said.

She grinned impishly then. "I guess I probably gave you a bit of a turn, then, didn't I?"

"A bit. What were you saying, though?"

"There's a bit of heavy rain coming, is all," Fwirra said. "Lovely, _I_ think- my roots could use a bit of a drink- but I've noticed that you humans don't like to be out in the wet: and it will get cold, too." She shivered. "I don't like _that_ any more than you do," she informed me. "In fact, the big oak over there told me that you people stay awake through all the cold time. I don't know how you manage it!"

I found myself staring at her, and then caught my rudeness. It was fascinating to be talking to a tree, and even more fascinating how she seemed so like a child. I dropped a curtsey then. "Well, um…thank you, Fwirra. Enjoy your…drink."

"I will," she said cheerfully. She waved and began walking back towards her tree. "Goodbye, Aravis." She faded into the bark, but I heard her voice. "Say, come and talk to me again sometime, will you? It's dull sitting here against the wall with no one but the oak over there to speak to, and the Queens, you know, when they come."

I shook my head in confusion, my melancholy broken, and walked inside as the first drops of rain began to pour.

* * *

><p>Supper passed at Cair Paravel, in the Great Hall. With the rain beating down outside, still it was a merry meeting. The lamps blazed, and danced off of the walls. The Lord Darren, Cor, Corin, and I sat at the dais with the High King, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy, but we looked out over a hall full of smiling humans and Beasts and even queer people I might have termed 'things' or 'demons' back in Calormen. Talking Rabbits as well as men raised goblets high, and I think I saw a Water spirit conversing with a bull with the head of a man. There were jokes and laughter, and after the meal I found that Queen Lucy had told the whole story of how Cor and I had come to Archenland to a poet, who had spent all day composing a song about it all.<p>

I saw Cor's cheeks redden- for the bard had _not_ left out the lion- and had added a great many adventures and things that had never happened at all. I myself was a bit embarrassed. Though persons had often bowed and scraped and paid me outrageous and untrue compliments to win the favour of the Tarkheena back in Calormen, still I had never had a song made about me, as if I were some ten-foot-tall heroine. I recalled Corin's first words to me, and smiled. After a tale like this, I was shorter than I expected myself to be.

We went to bed late. The next morning again I spent mostly in solitude, but towards eleven Cor and Corin were let out of their lessons and came to find me.

"So, Aravis, what do you think of Narnia?" Corin asked, grinning. It was the first chance the three of us had gotten to speak together since our arrival.

"I think it very strange, and beautiful, and wonderful. The kings and queens are very kind," I said.

"But?"

I shrugged. "I confess I prefer Anvard better," I said.

"Me, too," said Cor.

"So much the better," said Corin. "You live at Anvard, don't you? I'd be all desolated if you decided to up and leave for Cair Paravel. It's fun when you're here, mind. And once that duke's gone we'll have a bit better time- The High King said he'd hold a tournament, remember Cor?"

"You'll beat the stuffing out of me," Cor sighed.

"'Course I will," Corin said, unruffled. "You're still useless with a lance- though you did manage to knock me one with the practice stave the other day- I never told you, good hit, by the way- I've still got a bruise."

I saw Cor smile in pleasure for half a second. "I'm almost certain to say something stupid when the duke shows up," he said. "He'll be here in an hour."

"Aren't Archenland and Galma on good terms?" I asked.

Cor nodded. "Sure they are-Father's on good terms with nearly everyone- 'cept Calormen, now, but the Tisroc did say in that conference he wasn't going to attack us, if I remember right." He looked inquiringly at me, and I nodded in affirmation.

"Technically, Galma isn't even its own country," Corin said. "It belongs to Narnia, with the Lone Islands; but the duke does come every now and then to renegotiate trade and go over the taxes and boring things like that. The old one died, so this is his son coming, name of Terril, I think. Anyway, Cor, you couldn't really say anything that will do much more than make things awkward. You rank the duke, as Crown Prince of Archenland."

"All the more reason to not mess up," Cor said, forehead crinkling. "I don't want to embarrass you or Lord Darrin…or Father, if he hears about it."

Corin made a noise of disgust. "Aravis," he said. "Where did you find this boy? By the Mane, he's so decent and conscientious sometimes I wonder if you didn't pick up the wrong brother."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "How can you doubt it?" I asked. "His face is yours, after all, and I've no doubt you could be just as simplemindedly and annoyingly decent if you tried." I looked at Cor. "Seriously, though, Cor, you've been studying enough to complain about it at all hours to Corin and me. If you mess up at all it'll be because you worried too much about it and did too much. Look, here comes King Edmund to fetch us. They must have sighted the duke's ship."

King Edmund led us to the little dining room where we'd been received the morning before. The other Narnian monarchs were already there. I looked at Cor. "Where's Lord Darren?"

He waved his hand. "He's not coming. Ran into Lord Peridan after we were let out of lessons- Lord Peridan tutored _them_, you know. I guess they're probably having lunch someplace else complaining about stupid young royals."

"Too right," laughed Edmund, who'd heard us. "But I thought Your Highnesses might like to meet the Duke Terril, and you, Lady Aravis."

I looked sideways at Corin. He made a face. Both of us knew we weren't really necessary for this: that the High King was trying to teach Cor something by example. Corin was here to ease things for his brother, and I was here because they couldn't in good conscience leave me out. Still, the whole proceeding was bound to be boring.

The duke of Galma, when he entered, proved a slim, rather short man with a pointed beard. He was in his mid-thirties, it looked like. His clothes were almost painfully correct. He exchanged pleasantries with the royals- whom he'd obviously met before- then the High King turned to the three of us from Archenland.

"These here are the young princes of Archenland: Cor, King Lune's heir, and his twin Corin. The girl with them is Lune's ward the Lady Aravis. King Lune has graciously allowed them to visit for a time."

Cor and Corin bowed- Cor much more correctly, if not more naturally, than he had done five weeks ago, and I curtsied as I had been taught by my governess back in Calormen. As I rose, I saw the duke frowning at me. I looked around- Peter, Susan, and Lucy looked a bit too natural, but Edmund had paled a little. Cor and Corin looked inexplicably nervous, and I wondered what I had done.

No-one said anything, though, and we went to table. King Edmund pulled out my chair for me with hands a bit too tense. The queens sat, then I sat- and the duke of Galma frowned again. Belatedly I noticed Corin shaking his head at me, and I realized that I ought to have waited for the duke to sit. I sprang up to my feet, blood rushing to my cheeks. He sat, looking perturbed, and then Cor and Corin and I sat before the High King and King Edmund.

The High King began by inquiring after Duke Terril's voyage. He stroked his pointed beard. "Weather was as good as can be expected this time of year, really- it was the pirates we had to avoid." Here he looked at me for some reason.

"Well?" Lucy asked.

"We managed it, we managed it. Saw a ship off the shore of Terebinthia, but we were able to outrun 'em. And now here we are. I must say, Your Majesties, it's a privilege to be back at Cair Paravel. And Your Highnesses-"he hesitated. "Milady…pleasure, I'm sure. But if you'll pardon me, I thought there was only one Prince of Archenland?"

"Oh, my brother's a halfwit," Corin said breezily. "We don't talk about him much."

"Corin!" cried Susan. "For shame!"

Corin grinned unabashedly at her. Cor turned red and shoved Corin's arm half-heartedly. "Pardon me, I'm sure," said Corin.

"Truth be told, there were two when they were born, Your Grace," said King Edmund, "But from two weeks after their birth up until five weeks past, there has been only one Prince of Archenland."

"How can this be?" asked the Duke curiously.

"If it pleases Your Grace," said Cor cautiously. "'Tis a long tale. But I was kidnapped as an infant, and was raised in Calormen until but five weeks ago."

"Calormen," said the Duke. He nearly spat the name, as if it tasted bad. I raised my eyebrows. "Did this damsel then, come hither from there?"

"Indeed," said Cor. "At the same time."

Duke Terril forced a smile. "Pardon my abruptness," he said. "We in Galma have little love for Calormenes."

"Why?" I asked, annoyed. "Is there something wrong with my countrymen?"

"Your countrymen?" asked Duke Terril. "I thought you were King Lune's ward."

"But five weeks ago I was a Tarkheena in Calormen," I said. "Excuse me if I find it hard to forget. Tell me, what causes your animosity?"

King Edmund shook his head, and the High King's eyes hardened. "Really," said Susan anxiously, "Your Grace, I'm sure she means no offense."

"It is nothing, Your Majesty," growled Duke Terril. "Tarkheena, then, have you no idea of your history?"

I hesitated. "Your Grace, sir, I know nothing of why you should dislike us so."

"Then tell me, Lady," he said. "From whence come fifteen out of every hundred slaves bought, sold, and treated like objects in that realm of Calormen?"

I suddenly remembered Baba telling me once that he'd come from Galma as a boy…abducted and sold at market. I felt my face grow hot.

"I see you know of what I speak," said Duke Terril in horrible accusation.

"Your Grace," said Peter, "You forget yourself. The Lady Aravis is a guest in this house as you are. I assure you, she has thrown off all allegiance to Calormen, but even had she not, you could hardly blame her for all the failings of her countrymen."

I looked back at Duke Terril, paralyzed. "The pirates…" I muttered. I stood abruptly. "Sir," I said, "I cannot say now that you have no cause for anger against the country that gave me birth, if it is as I think it is. I…I cannot say how foolish I feel regarding my ignorance this afternoon…had I but known. I have…you must have thought it a great insult…oh," I turned to the four monarchs of Narnia. "Your Majesties. Beg leave to retire. I'm…I'm sorry." I shot Cor and Corin a pleading look, and turned, and fled.

I all but ran from the room and out to the garden. The day was sunny, and there was no wind. I cursed within my head again and again. Once I calmed, I realized that Duke Terril had been wrong to blame me for my people, but still- I had not given him cause to think me different. I curtsied in the manner of a proud Tarkheena, had taken offense at his dislike of Calormenes, completely forgetting he might have reason. And I could not deny I had spoken out of turn just now. It was almost funny. Cor, Corin, and I had all been so sure that if anyone messed up with regard to political relations it would be him.

I wondered why I'd been so sure of that, and could only trace it back to the same pride and complacency I'd despised in myself upon first discovering it at the Hermit's five weeks ago. Small wonder I hadn't been able to get rid of it just upon discovering it.

I ought to have realized that a Calormene Tarkheena living in the North would have to be doubly aware of the politics and courtesy thereof. Calormen was strong enough to handle its enemies. I was not strong enough to handle my former nation's foes, though, so my reputation and standing would now depend on my ability to divert their animosity. It wasn't exactly fair that I would have to be so careful- but still, I ought to have realized- and it was laziness, pride, and- I realized with shame- even lack of commitment that kept me from acting on it. I had wanted to live free among the Northern peoples- it was right and proper that I should live, not only free, but also as they lived.

I went back to my room after a brief talk with Fwirra- she had enjoyed the rain and was feeling sleepy so we didn't talk long. I stayed there, thinking about what I was to do.

* * *

><p>Lucy found me there later, after supper had passed and when the castle was starting to quiet down. She sat down on the bed beside me heavily. "You know, you did not have to stay up here all afternoon," she said softly. "Cor, Edmund, and I were able to explain things to the duke. He feels badly for his ill manners now; he was hoping you would come down for supper so he could apologize."<p>

I looked over at her. "It wasn't all his Grace, Lucy; don't be kind. I spoke out of turn, too, and besides, once the High King said Galma I ought to have remembered I'd have to tread carefully. I'm so embarrassed."

Lucy reached out to lay her own little white hand on mine. "The fault was not all on your side, nonetheless, nor even, I think, mostly on your side. The Duke Terril has always been-how shall I put this- a little oversensitive. His sister was taken by Calormene slavers, you know."

"So much the worse!" I cried.

Lucy sighed."Slavery's one of the prime evils in the world today. I do not expect you know that yet- at least not fully. Even as much freedom as you had as a Tarkheena- little as it was- is denied a slave. You were primary decorative. A slave's entire personhood is reduced to mere utility, a gross degradation of the human spirit. But that you grew up among it is no more your fault than your name."

"I know I was horrified when Shasta-Cor, now, of course, told me that the fisherman wanted to sell him to Bree's old Tarkaan," I said. "And…I suppose, since I always rebelled at the thought of serving like a slave, that I knew, even then, that there is something wrong with the position. And I think that the way King Lune does things in Archenland- paying his servants and giving them days off and calling them 'friend' or by name- is much nicer."

Lucy smiled. "It _is_ nicer. As for any rudeness you exhibited, I think you are probably still adjusting. It is strange still, is it not, to call Archenland home?"

"I don't really think I've fully processed it until today," I said. "Lucy, I shall have to learn all about the customs and history, as if I'd never learned it before. I realized it's even more important for me than it is for Cor. He belongs in Archenland, so it makes sense that he'll get a little more..." I struggled for words.

"Acceptance?" Lucy offered in a soft voice.

I nodded slowly. "But I'm going to have to prove I deserve it. But I will, Your Majesty, I will! By the Lion himself, I'm never going back. I'll do whatever I have to."

Lucy squeezed my hand. "Whatever work you put in, the good deeds I am sure you will accomplish as a free lady of Archenland: they will testify even more to your credit than they would if you were otherwise. It is strange: I have not thought of it for years, but you remind me of another young woman in a story my mother used to tell me long ago, in that other world."

I scooted closer to her, so I was leaning up against her side. "Tell me," I asked.

"There was a young woman," Lucy said, in a faraway voice. "Not much older than you. She had married a foreign man, but her husband had died, and her mother-in-law was leaving the country to go back to her own homeland, for there was a famine. She told this young woman to go back to her father, and to serve the gods of her own homeland, and to perhaps marry again and bear children. But the young woman loved her mother-in-law, and thought her way of life was better, and she would not go. I remember liking what she said so much I memorized it then…let's see if I remember…

"Ah, yes. 'Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee:" Lucy quoted. "For whither thou goest I will go; and where thou lodgest I will lodge: thy people shall be my people and thy God my God…"

"'Where thou diest I will die,'" said Queen Susan's voice from the doorway, "'and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.' Yes. Mother used to have that on the wall. She did love that story. I had almost forgotten. It does remind one of Aravis, does it not?" She took up a brush off of the table, and walked around and knelt on the bed behind me and began running the brush gently, but firmly, through my unruly curls.

"Just as the woman in the story," Lucy said, "You have left your homeland for a life you think better- without even so much family as a mother-in-law you have left your father's house and your king and your gods to live as a foreigner among us. I think it is terribly brave of you. And I think that just as that woman in the story has been renowned in the world from whence I and my siblings came for her loyalty and goodness, so will you be among us in days to come."

My eyes stung. Queen Susan's lovely low voice came from behind me. "And, Lady Aravis, know that even as you have adopted Archenland, so has Archenland adopted you. In truth, Cor is yet timid in his role, but he spoke out bravely for you after your departure this afternoon, as did Corin. And, dear, you have friends at Cair Paravel, too."

I squeezed Lucy's hand, and said, "Queen Susan, Queen Lucy…I cannot…" I broke off.

Presently, Susan said, "Your tresses are beautiful, Lady Aravis."

I smiled. "I hate them. I've never been able to do anything with my hair…it's too thick and wild. No one's brushed it since my mother…"

"No one?" asked Susan. Her hand went to my shoulder. "I think, dear, you've missed out on a great deal."

"Had you any brothers or sisters back home?" Lucy asked.

I bit my lip. "Two brothers," I replied. "But one…one died years ago in battle. And the other…he was so young I wonder if he will remember me when he is grown."

"You have known your share of sorrow, haven't you, Lady Aravis," said Susan. She didn't sound pitying, but compassionate. She continued to run the brush through my hair, though now it was soft, smooth, and shining, and Lucy sat by me, and I was happy.

* * *

><p>The next day as soon as I had finished breakfast- brought to me in my room, I sought out the room where Lord Darrin was teaching Cor and Corin their respective lessons. I nodded my head when I entered.<p>

"Lady Aravis," he said in surprise. "Their Highnesses will not be out ere noon, you know that."

I shook my head. "No…um…sir, I was wondering if you had time, or desire, for one more pupil."

Lord Darrin's eyes widened and I saw Cor and Corin behind him gape. "Lady?"

"It occurred to me that perhaps I do not know as much about Archenland, its history and customs as I might, as it is my home now. I know no one more qualified than you to rectify my ignorance, and frankly, I am ashamed I did not think to ask to benefit from your wisdom before." I looked at Cor sideways, offering more than a ceasefire- offering an apology. He gave me a little crooked smile, showing he understood and forgave.

Lord Darrin regarded me for a moment. Then slowly, he smiled and nodded, and whatever reservations had been there in his gaze before looking at me had disappeared. "It would be my honour, Lady Aravis. What do you think you need to learn?"

I grinned. "A great deal, Lord Darrin. I don't even know how ladies in Archenland greet others."

"Come in, then" Lord Darrin said. "The Prince Cor is learning a little history right now. You might do well to join him."

I sat down beside Cor. He shook his head at me. "I can't believe you're asking to be educated," he muttered.

"Well," I said, "Now I'm doing it too, you have to promise not to complain. Do we have a bargain?"

Cor looked at me, smiling, but his green eyes were serious. I could see he understood the things I wasn't saying. He offered me his hand to shake. "Deal."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So one downside to creativity is it demands a lot more space to work in. I'm not sure how successful this my first original little mini-story was. I wanted to put Aravis at fault in one of her fights with Cor- but the thing with them is that they both WILL be in the wrong- and the Aravis-awkwardness I came up with eventually involved someone else being just as wrong as she is. But seriously, she OUGHT to learn how things stand with free countries. I hope I dealt with real issues. And I hope everyone was in character. The story and the quote are taken from Ruth 1, from the King James Version that would have been in every home in England at the me what you think. Please?**

**God Bless!**

**L.**


	15. A Birthday in Archenland: HWIN POV

**Disclaimer: Ergh, ergh, ergh! You know what, I DO claim Brindee. But misfortune of misfortunes, I've placed him in Narnia. So call him a gift.**

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><p>Chapter Fifteen<p>

**HWIN POV**

After I got to Narnia, everything just became better and better for me. At first it all seemed like such a good dream, and then maybe a month after I got there I started realizing it was real, and I liked things so much the better.

I had been accepted into the same small herd of Talking Horses as Bree-up far north near the moors. It turned out that I had had a brother after I'd been captured, so though my mother and father were gone now, my brother Hrinree was leader of the herd. He was tall now: nearly as big as Bree, though still very young of course. I myself was still quite a young Horse.

I'd like to clear something up right now. Some people think that Talking Horses, like real wild horses live in harems: with one stallion to several mares. That's just not true. For one, the gender split for Talking Horses is pretty equally fifty-fifty between males and females. For another, my mother always told me that with reason come things like jealousy, and the necessity for morality. We've found that we are all more at peace if every stallion only takes one mare, for life, like the humans do.

I think the herd expected me and Bree to get married when we arrived. In all fairness, we'd been through a lot together, and he is a very attractive stallion. But for all that, for whatever reason, I never looked at Bree as possible marriage material, and I don't think he ever saw me that way, either. At any rate, once Bree had made no move to court me, and I had behaved as freely with the other single males in the herd as with him for about three weeks, I suppose they got the message. A few young females started grazing with Bree in the mornings, and I found myself by no means ignored by two or three of the males.

It was apparent to me pretty early on that the only one I could be with was Brindee. He was rather smaller than the others courting me- but he was so soft spoken, courteous, and intelligent. He never boasted as the others did, and when I became distressed when the attention was too much he noticed, and would lead the others away. One morning, about two months after I had joined the herd, he took me away just before the sunrise and showed me a secret little creek he knew in a wood, where the grass grew sweet and thick, and the birds were singing sweetly, and he asked if I would go with him wherever he went, stay by his side in good times and in drought, run with him from dawn to dusk, love him always, and bear his foals someday. Readily, readily, I assented. He was a good Horse, and kind of cute. We were married that evening by my brother.

It had been a happy several months now. But as the spring came around again, and began to ripen towards summer, I thought of my friends at Anvard. I went to Brindee.

"Brindee, would it be all right if we went south for a while? It has been a long time: too long, since I have seen my friends Aravis and Cor at Anvard. Bree went just last month…and I miss them."

Brindee snorted. "Wasn't Aravis your mistress? Why go back?"

I shook my head. "It wasn't like that, Brindee. For the majority of the time I knew her, yes, I did not speak to her, but she was good to me in a land where so many people mistreat horses. I watched her grow up. She was my friend. And after I saved her and we ran, I took care of her, at least a little."

Brindee inclined his head around mine. "You love her, don't you?"

"I do, I do. And Cor, too," I confirmed.

"Then, by all means, let's go to Archenland, Hwin. I want to know all of your friends."

I let out a neigh of joy and whisked my tail. Then I walked, my husband beside me, and went to Hrinree. "Hrinree, we're going to visit Archenland. We'll be gone- oh- probably a little over a week."

Hrinree nodded. "Bree likes going there. He says King Lune is a good man and feeds him the nicest of oats. Travel safely, sister, Brindee."

I turned and walked towards the south. Bree was talking to a palomino filly he'd taken a particular fancy to by the name of Faheen.

"Bree," I said. "Faheen. We're going for a while."

His ears came up. "To Archenland?"

"Hwin finds herself missing the two you both came to Narnia with," Brindee confirmed. "And I must confess I'm quite curious to meet them."

Bree's eyes glowed. "They're well worth meeting, Brindee. Hwin, give my love to Sha-to Prince Cor and to the Tarkheena." He still called Cor Shasta at times- I supposed it was hard to forget the name you had first called the boy you taught to ride and rode all the way through Calormen with. But he looked back to Faheen, and I saw he was anxious to return to his conversation with her.

"Safe journey, Hwin, Brindee," she said politely.

"Goodbye, then," Brindee said. He turned to me. "Shall we go then?"

I tossed my mane. "Want to race?"

* * *

><p>It was a lovely time of year in the North; the only thing Brindee and I really had to watch was the rivers- still partially flooded from the thaw and the early spring rains. We crossed the great Narnian River and continued on south, stopping here and there to talk to a faun or a troop of Talking Mice. It was a bit nastier in the pass- there was still snow on the mountains, and it was cold, but when we looked down upon the green heathery slopes of Archenland I sighed.<p>

"You'd never know to look at it," Brindee observed, "That Archenland actually has a bigger human population than Narnia, would you?"

"I guess all of the towns and villages are hidden by the mountains."

"It's a very rural country," Brindee agreed. "Which way to Anvard?"

I pointed with my nose. "It's not far now- maybe four hours' journey at a walk."

"Let's walk," he said. "It's not nine o'clock in the morning yet, and I've never seen Archenland before." (We had spent the night just north of the pass, and recommenced the journey early that morning)

"I think it's actually a prettier country than Narnia," I said. "Much harder to travel across, though."

"And you don't find Talking Beasts much, so I've heard," he said.

"Well, Archenland is wide, Bree tells me, but it's so very narrow. You can't go south far at all before you're in the desert- or on Calormene beach." I ducked my head self-consciously. "I ought to know."

Brindee drew a bit closer to me. "You're free now, Hwin."

When we came to Anvard, the gates were open, and a guard was there. "Hullo!" he called as we approached. "Who goes there?"

Brindee gave a toss of his head. "The Madam Hwin to see the Prince Cor and Aravis Tarkheena," he called back. "I am her husband, Brindee."

The guard smiled broadly at us as we approached. He actually bowed to me and Brindee. I shifted nervously. "Madam Hwin," he said. "And…Brindee, was it? Welcome to Anvard! Shall I go inform the castle of your arrival?"

"Please," I said.

"Meanwhile, come in, come in," he said. "You are well-known to us at Anvard. They will all be so happy to see you."

I led Brindee in to the yard at Anvard. "Friendly lot here, aren't they?" he remarked.

I laughed. "The four are gracious and gay and regal- Aslan grant them long reign, but you won't meet nicer people than King Lune and his house at Anvard."

Brindee looked at the grass. "It looks delicious," he said. "Do you think they'd mind if I-"

"'What's grass for?' they'd ask," I told him. "Go ahead."

He bent his head and began to graze while we waited. Shortly, Aravis came running out. She looked so much happier than I'd seen her in years- since her mother and brother had died- and she looked like a better person than she'd been even before that. Her face had softened- it looked more like a young girl's face than the face of the hard young woman who had tried to kill herself in the woods. She'd grown, too. She looked about an inch taller, her hair was longer, and her body was going through the thickening I'd seen in other human girls right before they developed their womanly figures. She was beautiful.

She ran right up, flung her arms around my neck, and kissed my face. "Hwin! It's been far, far too long! Bree's been twice already! But who's this?"

I let out a breath of contentment. I _had_ missed Aravis! She had let go of my neck. "It's good to see you, Aravis," I told her. "This is Brindee- he's my husband."

Brindee had lifted his head from his snack and was regarding Aravis with curiosity. She broke out into a wide smile. "You're married? How wonderful! Mr. Brindee? I'm Aravis." She dropped a curtsey- to my surprise in the proper Northern style.

"What's the honorific?" Brindee muttered to me.

I tossed my head. "Aravis? What's your title?"

Brindee stamped a hoof in embarrassment, but Aravis did not look offended. "You can just call me Aravis, sir. Hwin does. I'm not a Tarkheena anymore. But just so you know, as King Lune's ward, they call me Lady Aravis."

"Lady Aravis, then," Brindee said, bowing his head. "I'm pleased to meet you. Hwin has told me many good things. But where is the other one? Bree's friend?"

"Oh, Cor? He's actually out with the King, looking over a village that had a bit of trouble in a recent storm. It's half a day's ride to the northeast- they should be back this evening. Corin's here, though. That's Cor's twin, you know, Mr. Brindee. He grew up in Archenland."

She began to walk around the castle towards the garden walks and motioned us to follow. "So how long have you two been married."

I thought for a moment. "It'll be nine months in about two weeks," I said.

"And you're just now coming to tell me about it? Just now visiting me at all? For shame, Hwin!" said Aravis. But she laughed. "You've been very happy, haven't you, in Narnia?"

"I hope she has," said Brindee. Aravis led us up to the back steps where the garden led up to the castle, and sat down on the steps facing us.

"So you're King Lune's ward? Is that official, then?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Pretty nearly. That's what everyone calls me, at any rate. I take lessons with Cor on politics and etiquette and history so I know about Archenland, I spend almost all my time running around with those two- and everything I have is a gift from the king." She smiled- a much nicer smile than I'd seen her turn towards anyone but Hashafed and I in the old days. "King Lune's a dear," she told us. "And when he speaks to me- I know he wants both what's good for me and what _I_ want. The strange thing is- I think he could make me like what's good for me even if I wasn't disposed to like it in the first place. It's hard to believe I've not even been here a year."

She looked over at Brindee. "In three days, Mr. Brindee, it'll be a year since your wife stopped me from killing myself in the woods of Calormen, told me she could talk, and said we could run away to the North." She looked at me. "I won't ever be able to thank you enough for that," she murmured.

I paused. "But then, isn't your birthday in two days?"

"Fourteenth, yes."

Brindee's ears went forward. "Do they all know?"

Aravis shrugged. "It's never come up, quite frankly. Cor had never had a birthday 'til a month ago, though. He and Corin turned fifteen, and all Anvard made a huge fuss. I've never seen him so flustered, not even the time when Corin had that minstrel follow him around the whole day singing the lion part of that ballad they've written about us." She clapped her hands. "I say, Corin will want to come speak with you, Hwin! Ought I to get him? I should. Excuse me! I'll be right back!"

She was up and dashed off in a minute. Brindee turned to me. "It's her birthday in two days?"

"It seems so," I replied. "My, the time's flown, though."

His tail swished. "Is she really so indifferent to it, then, that she has not told those she lives among?"

I considered. "Her last birthday was not a happy occasion. And she seems humbler than she was- she might identify birthday celebrations with her old life in Calormen, and I know she will think them silly considering that the Prince Cor has never until this year celebrated his- she'll think that if he did it, she can."

"Not lost to pride after all, then," Brindee observed drily.

"It's always been her worst fault," I said, laughing a little.

"Poor child," he said, laughing with me. "She may think her birthday inconsequential now in her happiness, but I doubt you'd take it kindly if I forgot our anniversary, no matter how you'd felt about me the day before."

"You're probably right," I agreed.

Brindee blew some air. "I like her," he said finally. "I think we ought to tell the others- these people who are so kind to her- that she turns fourteen in two days."

"Oh, King Lune and the others will make sure she is celebrated," I said, delighted. "I'm certain he'll make just as much of a fuss over Aravis as he did over his own sons- he's determined to make her a friend of the house, and it sounds like he's doing a wonderful job so far."

"Exactly," said Brindee. "But hush, let's not tell her. Here she comes with that other one- Prince Corin."

* * *

><p>Brindee and I looked around for an opportunity to talk to the King, Corin, or Cor alone, but it did not arrive until the next afternoon. Cor and King Lune were delighted to see us- Cor asked us all about the herd and the grazing- it seems he'd been taught the proper way to talk to Talking Beasts sometime, and King Lune sent for a veritable feast of oats and apples and nice things, but Aravis was always there.<p>

But this particular afternoon she was inside working on some essay the Lord Darrin had set her to writing as penance for a prank she had pulled with Corin the other day- Corin had had to clean up the mess it had made inside the castle, apparently, as he'd made it, but Aravis had been the diversion.

Cor and Corin were outside in the tilting yard practicing fencing with crude wooden swords. Brindee and I had heard the commotion and rounded the corner of Anvard to see them. I blinked in astonishment at what I saw.

One of the boys was forcing the other back steadily, and while the other was parrying with skill and strength, the first was obviously going to win. He used simple strokes- but was executing them marvelously, as one who had practiced for hours and hours. I had to look twice- now that Cor had lived nearly a year in Archenland he had filled out some and looked more like his twin than ever- but his face still contained a seriousness that Corin's did not, and it was he that was winning the skirmish.

Just then he performed two simple moves, but in rapid combinations. I couldn't for the life of me tell what they were; though I thought Bree might have been able to tell. But the result was that Corin's wooden practice sword flew out of his hands, and Cor was left leveling his own at his brother's chin, grinning in amazement.

"You cheated," Corin gasped.

His twin shook his head. "You know I didn't; you've gotten lazy." He tossed his practice sword aside with Corin's. "I can't believe it."

"Me neither," Corin said. "It was a fluke!"

"It was a good move," Brindee said, walking forward. "And I've been to the Cair and seen the knights there practicing. You've put a lot of work into it, haven't you, Your Highness?"

Cor nodded. "Since the battle here I decided I didn't want to feel useless in a battle ever again." He gestured at Corin. "But that's the first time I've ever beaten him."

"You say that like there's going to be other times," Corin said, fuming a little. "It was a fluke, I tell you!"

Cor started to move towards the practice swords. "Want to go at it again, then?" I saw him moving and detected no fear. "No, seriously, Corin," he said, not angry- actually rather excited, I thought.

I walked up to Brindee. "Dear," I whispered. "I think he could do it again."

Brindee tilted his ears and kept watching. Cor had picked up both swords and was holding one out to Corin. Corin was regarding him; I saw him flex his hand where Cor had disarmed him. "Not today, I think," he said finally, and smiled. "I'll beat you tomorrow. And you know I can knock you down now."

Cor groaned and tossed aside the swords again. "Don't I know it. Will it make you feel better?"

I was pleased to see how well they already understood each other. Corin was happy in Cor's success- but nevertheless did not like to lose, and Cor was prepared to help Corin out. Corin's smile widened. "Should patch up my ego nicely, I think."

The brothers began to square off for an- apparently friendly- wrestling match, and I cleared my throat. "Actually, Your Highnesses, could we have a word before you start up again?"

"Though I wouldn't mind seeing Your Highnesses exert your skill," Brindee said hurriedly, with relish. "There is something that we've been trying to say."

"What's the problem, then?" Cor asked.

"It's Aravis' birthday tomorrow," I said.

"Is it?" Cor asked. "How old is she going to be, then?"

Brindee snorted in astonishment. "Your Highness, have you lived with the girl a year without knowing her age?"

"It never came up," Cor shrugged. Corin looked at Cor in astonishment.

"Cor, you _are_ an idiot," he said. "Come to think of it, I can't believe _I_ haven't asked. I was _there_ the time the High King forgot Queen Susan's birthday. Hwin, how old is she?"

"Fourteen tomorrow," I said.

"Tomorrow," Corin repeated. "That doesn't give us much time."

"Corin, am I missing something?" Cor asked.

"Always, brother," Corin replied instinctively, "Look, you remember last month when it was our birthday and Father threw that big party?"

"Yes," Cor said, "I didn't really see the point, to be honest."

"It's what you do on birthdays," Corin groaned. "Aravis ought to have one, too. And now we've got less than twenty-four hours to set one up for her. So come _on_!"

Half dragging Cor, still asking for explanations, Corin ran off towards the castle.

I snorted. "Well, that was effective."

"Those are good boys, too," Brindee observed. He was silent for a moment, then said, "I've seen the High King and Edmund in action- fought beside them in some of the earlier battles against what was left of the Witch's people, actually. Your Cor's going to grow up to be a dangerous swordsman."

I felt a wave of pride. "I shall have to tell Bree. He'll be so pleased." I chuckled. "Little Shasta. I always knew he had something in him."

"I'm pretty sure he'll grow to be better yet- not just as a swordsman," Brindee said. "If he can beat his brother in a year- who has had years more instruction than he- well, it speaks volumes for his self-discipline, dear. They're incredible creatures, these humans."

"Funny little things, though," I agreed. "I don't think Cor would say he's anything special, even now." I leaned up my head against my husband's.

He blew on my nose playfully. "Then he's like you that way. You're probably one of the most beautiful, loving, sensible creatures in the world, and yet you don't think you're anything special, either."

I closed my eyes, heart glowing. "You're so good," I murmured. I opened my eyes and looked into his. "I'm glad of you- I love you."

* * *

><p>The next day, the King, Cor, and Corin brought Aravis out into the garden for lunchtime. We met them there. The flowers were blooming; the sun was fair. They sat down at a table, and with the luncheon, the attendants brought an enormous cake, decorated in green and gold icing.<p>

Aravis' face showed incredible shock at first. She looked at King Lune, and he smiled kindly at her. "Dear Lady, why didst thee not tell us that today was your fourteenth birthday?"

Aravis still looked shocked. "I didn't want to make a fuss," she stammered. "You've been so kind to me already, and a birthday-" she hesitated. "It's just a day like any other."

"Not this one," King Lune said. "This is the day of _thy_ birth, Aravis, and thou art _worth_ making a fuss over. Nay, as your first birthday in our house, should we not celebrate? "

Aravis looked over at me. "You told them," she said, smiling.

I swished my tail. "It was Brindee's idea. We figured that today of all days, you needed to know you are special, and loved."

Aravis looked at Brindee. "You really shouldn't have." She let out a little laugh. "But Aslan help me, I'm glad you did." She looked at King Lune. "Your Majesty, as ever, you are far too kind."

The King's eyes twinkled, and I imagined he looked rather like Corin looked right after he had pulled a prank. "Come now," he said. "Let us eat together and be merry."

And there was cake, and King Lune, Cor, and Corin had even managed to find gifts for Aravis- a beautiful scarlet pen and stationary set, a volume containing several Archenlandish legends, and decorated saddlebags for whatever horse she rode now, respectively. I found myself actually rather jealous of her poor dumb horse for a moment- the quiet of the rides they took- and wondering if she ever shared her thoughts with the beast. Then I remembered my freedom and my husband and my herd and all our lands, and laughed at myself. Aravis was still my friend- what did I care about the horse that served her?

The happiness in the garden was nearly tangible. Aravis smiled and laughed and chattered- with me, with Brindee, with Cor and Corin while Lune looked on, occasionally making a joke and all the while clearly the happier for the happiness he had brought. My husband stood by me. There was home and herd to go to, and the sun shone down on our faces, seeming to laugh for joy itself. My heart was full near to bursting. Here was a golden moment.

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><p><strong>AN: This chapter was difficult. I rewrote several bits of it, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. The Hwin POV wasn't hard, though she's not nearly as fun as Aravis; it was the line of the narrative itself I had trouble with, particularly the characters of Brindee and Corin and giving them realistic responses. In the end, I think there are moments here I've done very well, and others merely mediocre. Please, tell me how you think I could have improved this. 'Cause I've no doubt I could have done SOMETHING, and there are four more of these to go. **

**God Bless,**

**L.**


	16. When There's No Funeral and No Will

**Disclaimer: JUST JOKING! Narnia's totally mine, and Cor and Corin and Aravis and ALL THAT. Oh, wait, where's my millions? Must've just been a dream.**

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><p>Chapter Sixteen<p>

It was nearly midsummer, the end of that first year in Archenland, when everything changed again. The funny thing was that it was quite an ordinary day. The sun shone down, the flowers were blooming in the valley, and the sky was so blue it almost hurt to look at. Cor and Corin were sparring, and I had decided to watch.

They had both gotten very good at it- this mock swordplay with the weighted wooden weapons. Ever since Cor had first beaten Corin (two months ago- and how he _had_ gone on about that) Corin had made an effort to practice more, and since Cor had had a much tougher time beating his brother. He had been forced to add moves and vary his style to continue to surprise Corin. For all that, I'd noticed he won three out of every five bouts that they fought- Corin was beginning to joke that in perhaps a year he needn't go and get his lessons from the Lord Cole after all, that Cor would keep him in top fighting form- "though you still can't box worth a penny".

Today, Corin was winning, though Cor was making him fight hard for every inch. A stubborn scowl was on Corin's face, and the sweat was starting to come up on his brow and to curl the hair he still kept shorter than his brother. He was exerting the utmost of his creativity and skill- that I could see. Cor, in contrast, was smiling in delight, blocking each stroke of Corin's deftly, hard-pressed to defend, but obviously thrilled with the challenge of it. The Lord Cole had said that as naturally gifted as a boxer as was Corin, so was Cor gifted as a swordsman. But finally, finally, with one overhand combination stroke, Corin sent the wooden thing flying from Cor's hand and his own practice sword flew up to the "kill" position.

Cor laughed. "You've been practicing, brother! Brilliant job you did of it, too!"

Corin smiled ruefully. "Oh, don't give me that," he complained. "Here I am sweating like a pig, and you just standing there, grinning ear to ear, fresh as a daisy. Were you even trying?"

"'Course I was. I always try. That direct approach works well for you, and that time you managed it so that I couldn't get out of it to go on the offensive." He chuckled. "By Aslan, though, you're strong."  
>Corin let himself be happy for a moment, and I took the opportunity to speak. "It was well fought, both of you." I hesitated. "I wonder- could one of you let me borrow your practice sword and give me a few tips? I've studied scimitar, of course, but this style is quite different, and I've been wanting to try my hand at it for some time."<p>

Corin looked at me incredulously. Then, realizing I was serious, he began to smile. "Aravis, look, I know Queen Susan has been helping you on your archery the last few times at Cair Paravel- from what Lord Cole says you show some promise, actually. But, you have to realize, swordplay- well it isn't 'play' at all. We learn it because sometime Cor and I may have to go to the wars- but when that happens you wouldn't be allowed to fight in the line- only back with the archers- if you went at all."

I stared at him for a moment. "Is that a no, then?" I asked.

"Fencing is for men, Aravis," he said, rather grandly and condescendingly. I turned to Cor, looking for back-up, but to my surprise he was shaking his head.

"Cor?"

He reddened, and his hand went to the back of his head in that familiar gesture of embarrassment. "Look, Aravis, I'm sure Corin isn't meaning to say that you aren't strong, or brave, or anything like that, because you are- you're the bravest person I know- but we've fought in a battle, remember? It scared me to death- all the people fighting and dying and everyone running around. Better if you stay far away from all that, if you ask me. If I didn't know I had to go if there's ever a battle again, goodness knows I'd stay as far away as I could get."

I looked at both of them. "Wanting to learn a few passes isn't me wanting to go fight in a battle," I told them. "Is the mere knowledge of this art to be denied me? Would it be disgraceful for either of you to learn to make clothes?"

Corin laughed aloud. "C'mon, Aravis, that's girl's stuff!"

Cor looked at his brother sharply. "I can mend clothes," he said. "I had to do it, growing up with the fisherman. And I've seen Father darn holes in his socks, Corin. Is that girlish of him?"

Corin blinked. "So, what, you think she should learn? Are you on her side now?"

"Well, no, but she makes a valid point. Why shouldn't she learn, just for fun? I don't want her actually using a sword by any means, but…"

"And why not?" I demanded. "Could there not possibly come a time when the kingdom is in danger and my life is being threatened and I must needs take up the sword in self-defense? If there should come such a time, what if I had no knowledge of how to wield the thing due to silly prejudice?"

"Aravis," Corin sighed. "Swords are heavy. And anyway, Cor and Father and I would protect you if anything bad happened."

"I didn't use to need protecting," I said. "Used to, I could wield a scimitar and fight hand-to-hand and everything. My brother taught me, in order to empower me, so I need not ever fear for myself. It was a good thing."

"But that's just it," Corin pressed. "You _don't_ need to ever fear for yourself. That's why we fight the wars, when there are any, to protect the women and the children and the land so no-one needs to be afraid."

"What happens when you lose?" I demanded.

"Now see here, Aravis," Corin began hotly, and Cor was looking distressed.

"Must we quarrel about it…"

"You stay out of it," I snapped, and just when things were starting to look really nasty a stag burst into the courtyard, panting.

We were silent at once. Cor looked at him twice before exclaiming, "Chervy! Hullo, what are you doing here?"

"I was sent with a message for the King and Princes of Archenland," he said breathlessly.

"You've found them," Corin said, seeing that this was serious. "I'll run for Father."  
>He brought out King Lune in a moment, with the Lords Dar and Colin, with whom he had apparently been in conference about some official business or other.<p>

"I am King Lune," he said. "What is thy news, friend?"

"I am Chervy the Stag," said the same. "I bring word that three days ago, the High King and his siblings were told that that White Stag had been spotted." He sniffed. "Frivolous waste of time, I think, chasing after _that _oddity-" He looked down at his own brown coat with pardonable pride. "But anyway, they and several nobles left in search of him. Apparently it was a long and wondrous chase- leading out fast into the West. That evening, the nobles returned, saying that Their Majesties alone had had valour enough to continue the chase- that they had abandoned the quest on the edge of that Forest which is called Lantern Waste. Yesterday morning- the four horses they had ridden returned- without their riders. Dwarves, fauns, squirrels, all those with any woodcraft have been combing the forest all this past day and night, with the Talking Birds flying to and from Cair Paravel. The Four of Narnia are nowhere to be found- and a wonder has been found in the wood they disappeared in, forgotten for years together.

"There is, in that wood, a tree of iron with a lamp thereupon," Chervy said gravely. "It is there that the dwarves and Talking Dogs found the last trace of the sovereigns' boot-prints, and it is rumoured- Sire, it is rumoured amongst those that remember the White Witch that 'twas there at the lantern, for which we assume Lantern Waste was named, that the Four first came into Narnia all those years ago. It is rumoured, that they have been called back into the world from whence they came and out of Narnia and this world together!"

His voice had risen in fear and panic, and I listened to his tale in wonder and alarm. "So, Sire, the Lord Peridan, Their Majesties' tutor and greatest advisor, commissioned me this morning to find and bring the King of Archenland and his sons at once, that they might provide counsel and help: to find the Four if they may be found-" he hesitated, "and to decide what must be done should Their Majesties be beyond where they may be found."

I understood immediately. None of the Four had married- the High King himself was but six-and-twenty. There was no heir to the throne of Narnia, and should something not be done, and soon, the land would fall into chaos. There was danger, should the monarchs of Narnia not be found, that whatever would be done would only lead to chaos.

King Lune clapped his hands for an attendant. "Make haste, friend," he said. "Saddle my horse, and that of their Highnesses. Lady, wilt thou be coming? I know thou art great friend to the Narnian Queens,"

I nodded. "Try to stop me," I said tensely.

"And me, Sire," said Lord Cole. "Your Majesty ought to have escort and help."

"So be it," said the King.

Horses were brought for the five of us, and we were up in the saddles in a moment. Chervy had had a bit to drink from the stream that ran past the courtyard, and he was poised to go, but King Lune said, "No, friend, rest yourself. You have raced to bring this news to us, and have tired yourself near out. Stay, and follow when you may. Well we know the way to Cair Paravel."

Chervy nodded. "Many thanks, Sire," he said, lying down at once on the grass.

We rode. We rode quickly, mostly in silence. I couldn't help but compare the ride to the one Cor and I had taken to warn the King of Rabadash and his two-hundred horse. The difference was, I thought, that then we rode to prevent something terrible, and now something terrible may have already happened.

Our supper, just North of the pass, was a tense one, but Lune made us stop a bit to rest the horses anyway. Corin spoke to me and Cor in a low voice. "This is dreadful; Oh, I'd give anything to know what has happened." His face was set and white, and his eyes were wide and more fearful than I'd ever seen them before. "Four years ago, you know, they really took me on- when…" his voice broke. "When Mother died, that is. I don't know what we would have done without them. If they're gone now…"

He couldn't finish. Cor cuffed him on the shoulder in silent comfort.

We rode on. It grew quite dark, and still we rode on. It was nearing ten o'clock in the evening, I think, when we finally arrived at Cair Paravel. Nearly all the lights in the windows were still on- and Lord Peridan came out to meet us.

"Sire," he said, and King Lune embraced him.

"Any news, man?"

He shook his head mutely. "None. Nothing else has been found- no word- no ransom demand or bodies or anything. The rumours fly-Their Majesties have been missing two days now. But come, we've had rooms prepared for you- try and sleep. We shall discuss it in the morning."

* * *

><p>I didn't sleep that night- of course I didn't. I could feel the people roaming in the corridors- sense them asking one another what they thought- if anyone had heard anything. Cair Paravel was buzzing busier than I had ever seen, yet she felt emptier than ever, too. I emerged from the room I'd been led to only to see Corin and Cor already out and headed my direction. "Where's the King?" I asked. I didn't even need to ask after their sleep. The dark blue shadows under the twins' eyes told that they had slept as poorly as I.<p>

"He's in the Great Hall already- I think they want us to go down," Cor said.

Corin was trembling. I looked at him. "I've heard talk-"he whispered. "They're saying that if they're really gone- gone for good- they might want me to be king here. I'd have to live here immediately- and…oh, it'd just be dreadful!"

I lifted my chin. "Worrying about rumours won't get us anywhere, anyhow," I said, more bravely than I felt. "Buck up, Corin. You're the Prince of Archenland! You shan't hide here and worry about what-ifs! Instead, you, me, and your brother are going to go down to that Great Hall and find out what's what, and…and whatever it is, we'll deal with it with courage and honour."

Cor's eyes focused on my face, and he nodded, and Corin looked at me. I reached out and took him by the hand, offering Cor my other. He took it, squeezing it. I suppose he knew I wasn't nearly as fearless as I was acting- but he also knew that neither he nor I had as much to lose in this mess as Corin. We set out down the hall.

We arrived in the Hall, and King Lune motioned us over to sit beside the Lord Colin.

"Narnia cannot be leaderless," a Raven ("Sallowpad" Cor whispered) croaked. "I do not believe the High King and his brethren are gone for good- but in any event I feel there ought to be an interim ruler appointed- a Regent- until they return."  
>"Yes, but who is that regent to be?" asked one of the Narnian Lords, whose name escaped me at the moment. "The old line of Narnian monarchs has died out- the Four were established by Aslan and who knows where he is now-"<p>

"I am here, Son of Adam," came that deep, golden voice- the voice bigger than the world. Everyone rose. Before the eastern window stood the Lion. "Peace, Lord Reginald, and greeting to you all." He began to walk forward with His silent tread. "The High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund, and Queen Lucy have done the job for which they were called into this world, so far from their own," He said, and His voice carried through the hall to all the nobles and gentle-beasts and fauns, dryads, and naiads in attendance. "They have set Narnia to rights- once again after the long winter it is a goodly and merry land, as I intended it to be from the beginning. But now, it is true, they have gone back into their own world, to live their lives there as they must. And Narnia must be ruled." He was pacing now in front of our table- the High Table, and I felt Corin's hand grow sweaty in my own. He shrank back.

Aslan looked at him with big golden eyes, and then passed on. Corin let out a great breath, and on his face was the most curious mixture of grief, shame, and relief I had ever seen. I wondered what he had understood, briefly, but then realized that was Corin's own story- to tell or not. Aslan stopped before the Lord Peridan.

"Aslan," he began.

"My son, "He said. "Once it was your time to guide, and to teach. Now it falls to you to lead in this period of confusion. Yours shall be the kingship of Narnia. Do you feel yourself sufficient?"

Peridan looked grief-stricken, and horrified. "Aslan," he said. "I am just an ordinary man."

"Will you promise to be a kind and fair ruler, having no favourites among these creatures your subjects or among your own children, and not to let any hold another under or use it hardly?"

Lord Peridan swallowed. His eyes glittered with unshed tears. "I will," he said, as if in rote response to a lesson learned long ago.

Aslan nodded. "If enemies should come up against the land and there is war, Son of Adam, will you be the first in the charge and the last in the retreat?"

Peridan squared his shoulders. "I hope, Aslan, that I will fulfill my duty with honour," he said.

"Then, Lord Peridan, call forth your wife."

Peridan looked across the hall. "Faye," he said simply. A tall, gracious, auburn-haired lady in her mid-thirties came forward to stand by him. She took his hand, jaw set. She did not look happy, but she looked determined.

"Kneel, Son of Adam, Daughter of Eve."

The couple did so. Aslan went to them and touched his tongue to both of their foreheads. Suddenly they shone forth in melancholy radiance, good and stern and beautiful, and the fear left their faces.

"Rise, Peridan my son. Rise Faye his queen. To you goes the kingdom of Narnia. The blessing is upon you and upon your line while it lasts. Bear it well, my children. Bear it well." The Lion lifted his mighty head to address the Hall again. "And upon all of you I lay this charge: Grieve; it is right and proper to mourn the passing of the Age of the Four. But linger not in the night of your grief, lest you miss the dawning of the day."

The light shot through the window again, and hit Aslan, and He was all aflame in gold for a moment- and then he was gone.

The sun was rising over the sea. And there stood Peridan and Faye.

"The Kings and Queens are gone," said Lune in a mighty voice. "Long live the King!"

"Long live the King!" cried the Hall as one.

* * *

><p>Of course there was a great deal to do after that. Plans for the coronation of Peridan and Faye had to be made. Messengers were to be sent out all over Narnia and the surrounding lands with the news of the departure of the Four and the new king and queen. In particular Peridan would have to meet with all the surrounding monarchs, ambassadors, and merchants to reestablish trading rules and all of that. He would have to sit and talk with the Narnian councilors, too, to redefine Narnian policy. He spent several hours that afternoon closeted with King Lune talking about relations between Narnia and Archenland.<p>

But nothing was really done in a joyful manner. Everyone tried their hardest to bustle about the castle and make the transition, but an air of sadness permeated the place, and the bustle was really slowed to a mournful mosey. Perhaps the persons I least envied were the ladies sent to sort out the rooms that had belonged to the Four- to figure out what to put away and what to keep as treasures- to restore the rooms for general rather than particular use. Indeed, I saw them coming out from down the corridor where the Queens Lucy and Susan had lived, weeping, carrying a hairbrush and a few gowns, and I had to sit down myself.

Never to see the Four again. It was a gloomy thought, hardly comprehensible to me. They were gone, far more permanently than even my brother, father, and friends back in Calormen. They'd gone not out of the country, but out of the very world, and I could not hope to follow and see them again. Never would I be welcomed to Cair Paravel with the High King's booming laugh and warm smile. Never study archery under Queen Susan. Never have a quiet chat about international politics with King Edmund. Never would I laugh with, or embrace dear, merry, good Lucy. For nearly two hours that afternoon, while everyone was occupied and before anyone talked of leaving, I am afraid to confess that I allowed myself to be quite miserable.

Then of course I had to stop and be reasonable. I had lost much in the Four, but I had lost friends of only a year. Peridan and Faye, soon to take over, had been passed the monarchy of a grief-stricken country reeling from the shock of losing quite suddenly all four of their saviours and beloved rulers. They could not but be resented in the aftermath of such an occurrence, and my heart had to go out to them, and to the whole golden land of Narnia.

Then I remembered the grief would stretch much closer than Narnia. Cor had never been as close to the Narnian monarchs as I, but Corin and Lune I knew would feel their loss grievously, as for a death. Corin had mentioned before yesterday how much the Four, particularly the High King and Queen Susan, had done for him after Queen Iris' death- functioning not only as friends, but quasi-brother and sister to the suddenly motherless Prince. When I thought of this I rose, putting aside my own grief.

I walked across the hall to where the boys shared a room. I knocked once, and Cor opened the door, his face lined in anguish. Over on one of the beds Corin sat, looking at his hands and biting his lip, trying his hardest not to cry.

"He's not talked since this morning," Cor said in a low voice. "Aravis, I do wish you could do something."

I looked at Corin again and replied quietly. "What's to be done? He's grieving, Cor. All that you and I can do is be here for him, to sit and be silent, and listen should he wish to talk, and by and by help him to laugh again. Your father, too, once we return and can be of service to him. Come, help me."

I walked into the room and sat next to Corin, motioning for Cor to do the same. Sure of myself, I put an arm over the younger twin's arched back. Cor, more hesitantly, followed my example, putting his own arm around Corin and grabbing my upper arm to hold us fast. To my surprise, Corin, instead of maintaining his pose or flinching away, leaned back into us and began to weep in earnest.

"Shh, shh, Corin," I said. "I know. If anyone knows, I know. We're here, though. We're here."

Corin began to shake with greater violence as Cor nodded, tightening his hold on my upper arm and pulling Corin in closer to both of us. "We'll always be here, brother," he said.

* * *

><p>King Lune had us and Lord Cole ready to leave the next morning. Just as we were set to leave Cair Paravel, we were stopped by a call. "Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, Lady Aravis! Lord- Cole, is it?"<p>

We turned to the north to see two horses coming towards us. "Bree?" asked Cor as they drew nearer and we identified the dapple charger. He dismounted and went to meet Bree and the mare with him- a young, sweet looking palomino.

Bree went to Cor immediately. "We came as soon as we heard. Faheen and I, that is. Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, Aravis, Lord Cole- my wife, Faheen. Faheen: the King Lune, Prince Cor, Prince Corin, the Lady Aravis, and Lord Cole, all of Archenland. It's true then?"

"Sadly yes, good Master Bree," said King Lune. "The Lion himself has told us of the departure of the former Kings and Queens of Narnia. Peridan shall rule."

Faheen shook her head. "Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen," she said in a strong voice. "That has been passed down from the oldest times- I don't know what it means. But as Peter the Magnificent was High King in Narnia, so is he now, though he is gone back to his world. We shall follow Peridan, but we shan't forget the Four. Ever." She stomped her foot in spirited defiance, as to hammer the truth into the very earth, and I shivered.

King Lune bowed. Cor followed suit. "Bree, she's brilliant," he said spontaneously. "Madam, I look forward to your better acquaintance. Will you be visiting us at Anvard?"

Faheen nodded. "I expect so. Bree has mentioned how he loves his visits there, and my husband's friends are all mine. I'm pleased to meet you all. I only wish it could have been under better circumstances."

"I expect, Madam, that the next time we see you it shall be," King Lune said graciously. "As for now, though, we must needs to return to our own kingdom of Archenland."

Faheen nodded, but Bree looked over towards Cair Paravel and the sea. "I've hardly been here for any of it," he said, "But I suppose the Four have fulfilled their purpose. Narnia and the North, Sha- I mean, Prince Cor. It is what it is because of what they have done here. I daresay Peridan will do a fine job as king- Aslan knows what he's doing. But, all the same, I have this feeling that this time will be called Narnia's Golden Age, and that it's over now." He looked once more at King Lune, then at Cor, Corin and I. "It is to you, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, and to Archenland, that the North will look now, you know. Your best days are all before you. I say that, Your Majesty, because I know your son. You're terribly fortunate."

King Lune looked back at Cair Paravel, then at his two sons, and his expression of sadness was mixed with pride and hope. "Thank you, Master Bree. Well I know it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah, I'm sorry for the disorienting Hwin-POV last chapter. I wanted to try it out, but writing from a mild, sweet-tempered horse's mind is a great deal harder for me than writing from a proud, sometimes rude teenage girl's mind. Wonder what that says about me? Ah well, so that's how I think the Pevensie's departure should've happened. I seriously toyed with making Corin king of Narnia for a while, but then I figured 1) He isn't grown up, 2) Lord Peridan could probably do a much better job of it, 3) How is he to become Corin Thunder-Fist if he's King Corin of Narnia, and 4) I have **_**plans**_** for Corin, and if he's in **_**Narnia**_** it's just that much harder. I like Faheen more than Brindee for some reason. Anyway, we're leaving the childhood of the three behind now. Next chapter we will have skipped ahead two years to young man/woman-hood for the three of them, though they won't be completely grown up! Please leave a nice review, or if you don't do that, leave a nasty one. I'm sure it'll make me better!**

**God Bless,**

**L.**


	17. A Golden Afternoon

**Disclaimer: All honour to C.S. Lewis; all profit to the estate; nothing whatsoever due to me.**

Chapter Seventeen

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><p>I was fifteen, and it was midsummer. Cor, Corin, and I had been working so hard in our lessons lately that the Lord Darrin- in charge of all academic matters, and the Lord Cole- in charge of the boys' instruction in the knightly arts and my continued study of archery, had seen fit to give us all a holiday. I did not know what use the boys were making of it. I had left them in the corridor, being scolded by the steward for racing over the freshly-mopped floor (didn't they know they could've slipped and broken their royal necks? And they'd scuffed up the floor, too…). I had not been so foolish as to race them, though Corin had called me a chicken, and so I had beaten them out of doors and had not seen either all morning.<p>

I was lying down now in the long, tall grass beside the brook that passed the garden, just outside the walls of Anvard bordering the lawn. The clouds were going by now, and I was counting them, making shapes of them as I had done as a child, hearing the breeze swish through the grass, and sometimes humming along with the music it made. The sun shone down brightly, but not hotly. It was a simply glorious day, and I was glad to be able to enjoy it- to just be lazy for a while and do nothing more useful than admire the shimmering wings of a passing dragonfly.

"Aravis?" came a voice, and I propped myself up on one elbow.

"I'm here," I called.

Cor came out the little side gate, looked around, and saw me. "What are you doing out here?" he demanded. "I've been looking everywhere for you. I checked the kitchen, your rooms, the throne room, the garden, everywhere you are usually."

"I didn't want to be someplace I am usually," I told him. "And anyway, you've found me now. Where's Corin?"

Cor plopped down beside me, sitting in the grass and looking over at the laughing little brook. "This is nice, for all you don't come here usually," he said. "I wonder I've never found it before." He made a face. "I think Corin's discovered girls," he said. "He disappeared after Norrin let us go- I heard the fuss about half an hour back. Lord Darrin found him kissing one of the kitchen maids."

"Which one?" I asked with curiosity.

"Oh, I think her name was Addison or Adeline or something like that," he said. "From Tirravale. About fourteen-"

"Blue-eyed, shiny brown hair, and freckles?"

"That's the one."

"She's nice enough," I said.

"Yes, well, apparently Corin shouldn't have been kissing her. Lord Darrin made an awful fuss over it. _She's_ not in trouble, but apparently he ought to have 'respected the flower of womanhood' or something. You know how he talks."

"Indeed," I said drily. "I've never understood that, by the by. They always send me to talk to one of the noblemen's wives about anything you know- girlish- Lady Thelma's nice- but she seems to make this distinction between the village girls and ladies here at Anvard, or at other courts." I sat up.

"How do you mean?" Cor asked.

"Well, from what she's said it's no disgrace for a village girl to go about with and kiss any number of young men before she's wed, but I'm never to do anything of the sort, nor did she, nor would any noblewoman. It's an odd sort of double standard."

Cor looked at me. "Do you particularly want to go out and kiss any number of young men?" he asked. He seemed not to like the idea very much.

I plucked a blade of grass and threw it. It fluttered straight down. "Well, no, but even if I wanted to I couldn't."

Cor shifted. "Personally, I've never understood why anyone would kiss someone they weren't married to."

"Corin must understand something we don't, then," I said.

"He thinks he does, anyhow. I shan't go around trying it, though. Hearing Lord Darrin lecture in lessons, and all those dozen men Father has advising him in those meetings he's starting to make me go to is bad enough without inviting any more lectures." Cor said.

I smiled. "Come now. You enjoy lessons much more than you thought you would."

"It's not so bad as all that," he admitted. "I shall never forgive Corin for making me think it'd be such dreadful torture as he did- though, mind you, it was a trifle hard learning to read and write as fast as I had to."

"You've done well at it. Your father was quite impressed last month when you were able to determine what was to be done about that thief in Fryndale all on your own."

He shrugged, but looked pleased. He pointed over to a frog croaking on a stone by the brook. "What do you suppose he's saying, Aravis?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's not a Talking Frog, Cor."

"Not in the sensible sense, of course, but he is talking now, isn't he?"

"What do you think he's saying?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning back down on my elbow.

Cor closed his eyes. "I think he's giving a great speech," he said in a bit. "To the sparrow up in the tree over the wall, the minnows in the stream, and….and I don't know- maybe us, though I daresay he thinks we're far too stupid to understand him." He gave a soft little crooked smile. "Maybe he's exhorting them to observe the way the wind moves through the grass, asking the sparrow to wonder if he could actually fly to the place where the blue of the sky meets the blue of the mountains. Maybe he's instructing them on how best to capture and eat insects."

The frog gave a last great croak, and jumped into the brook with a splash. "Or maybe he's just a Frog- croaking because that's what's frogs do," I said with a laugh.

Cor opened his eyes and looked at me. "Maybe. But that _is_ the boring explanation. I used to make up stories like that all the time- back as a child with Arsheesh. It kept my mind off that hole I had to fix in the nets, or how my ears were ringing from his last knock."

He didn't say it self-pityingly, but almost comically, as if it were funny. "I might have tried that," I said, "After my brother and mother died. Perhaps it would have made things easier. But I just rode. I rode for hours and hours and hours."

"Do you ever miss it?" Cor asked suddenly. "Being a Tarkheena- Calormen?"

I considered. "Being a Tarkheena? Not at all. I know I was a dreadful person because of it, you know. When I think of what a little pig I was when _we_ met, all spoiled and proud…" I broke off. "But…" I hesitated. "I do miss my brother."

"Hashafed, wasn't it?" Cor asked gently.

"Yes. I wonder sometimes if he'll remember me at all. My stepmother, Lanavisra, she never disliked him- quite doted on him, actually. I wonder if he'll call her 'mother', and forget he ever had an older brother and sister. It's quite possible he'll have younger half-siblings. He was a sweet child- I took care of him for nigh two years."

"He will be loved still, won't he?"

"I daresay, but he might grow up into someone I should weep to meet. Lanavisra is no role model- and Father trusts far too much in her judgment."

"Sometimes I don't think it was quite fair for you," Cor observed. "You gave up a family, riches, a title and a social position to go someplace you didn't even know. I didn't give up anything- but gained everything in the world."

I sat up again. "Listen here," I told him. "I gained my freedom, something I almost killed to have back in Calormen. Your Father has given me everything and more that I could have wished for by way of a home, and more and more, I'm even gaining respect and place amongst the nobles here. And I do like your Father and Corin: King Lune is a dear and your brother my good friend." I poked him. "And don't imagine that you're anything to sneeze at, either, Prince Cor. You're a long ways from Shasta the peasant boy. He was a great deal better than I thought at the time- and you-I'd venture to call you my best friend. The trade-off has been fair. I gave up things, but I would say I have gained much more."

He shook his head. "You're a long way from Aravis Tarkheena," he told me in turn. "I was really very glad when you came to live here, and I'm a great deal gladder now. And I'm glad we're on holiday, and I'm not in trouble like Corin. I could use a day of doing nothing."

"That is almost exactly what I was thinking just before you came out here," I told him. "Well, that, and that there was a cloud that looked just like that hat the King likes to wear-the one that looks like a mushroom with the big green feather. It's gone now."

Cor laid back and I lay back with him. "But there's one up there that looks like a bear and an eagle going at it," he said, pointing it out.

So we passed the day: watching clouds, telling tales, talking and sometimes laughing. We rolled down the hill from the wood on the right, drank from the stream, and ran about the walls when we wearied of that, until the sun had gone down behind the western range, and we were forced to go in to prepare for supper, and face the wrath of Corin, who had missed all of the fun.


	18. Rude, Foolish, and Wonderful

**Disclaimer: I cannot claim this, the longest story yet, as mine any more than any of the others.**

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><p>Chapter Eighteen<p>

I found myself growing and changing with the seasons at Anvard. My fifteenth birthday and come, and my sixteenth, and now the leaves were turning and falling again on the mountain slopes of Archenland.

I was alone that morning. As Cor and Corin had grown King Lune had trusted to them more and more of Archenland's business abroad. Lately they had been sent to Terebinthia to negotiate increases in trade between our two nations. From the few discussions I had been privy to, the business had something to do with textiles and cheeses, or something else I had thought very dull, but was forced to acknowledge important. They had been gone some six weeks now, and though King Lune and the middle-aged men of the court, even, were very kind, they were not quite the company of the absent young Princes.

I missed the boys- though they were really boys no longer- dreadfully. Early on in their absence I had taken a three day trip to go visit the Hermit of the Southern March- now forced to walk with a cane, but undoubtedly hardy for his one-hundred-and-twelve years. I hoped that I would see the old seer to one-hundred-and-twenty. He had welcomed me, of course; he had told me of the dances of the stars and goings-on in Calormen (That horrible Tisroc was ailing), and I had spent the days there in peace, but not much amusement.

Three weeks ago it had been a bit better; Bree and Faheen had paid a visit. It had been a blessing, as it always was. They had been sad to miss the Princes, but had nonetheless stayed a few days. We had all gone running together- the two Talking Horses free, me on my own Renetta, a good and faithful mount for all she couldn't talk. They had told me of Narnia.

The initial grief and confusion after the Four's departure had left the land, in favour of contentment, if not total happiness. King Peridan and Queen Faye were proving to be wise and kind rulers, and their nine-year-old son Kale and five-year-old daughter Lillian were fine, generous children. But of course Peridan and Faye were merely good monarchs, far from the saviours and rebuilders of Narnia their predecessors had been, and the whole country felt it. Still, the land was at peace, and the fields were flourishing, though Bree had mentioned that it had not rained quite as much as might have been hoped lately.

I had been sad when the two Horses had left, leaving me once more to myself. Now I walked along the top rampart of Anvard. I had ceased to need education these last six months, and now I spent much of my time waiting on the King, or, oddly enough, running castle affairs. I supposed that in the absence of a queen or any daughters, I had just been allowed to fill that vacancy as mistress of Anvard- all unofficial, of course, but nonetheless felt. King Lune was now in the throne room meeting with the day's supplicants- today two farmers from the western village of Darrow had come before him: brothers whose father had died without leaving clear instructions as to how they were to divide the family land between them. A little later, I would be called down to go to the King again- but I did not grudge him my company. He was a dear man- always kind and considerate, talking on subjects of mutual interest. I had come to love him as my own father.

For now I looked to the east, as far as I could see. A rider was coming up the road that led up the ridges from the coast, and I was watching his progress with avid interest, pacing up and down, willing him to go faster, praying he was come from _Iris_, the great ship of Archenland, named for the late queen, returned at last from Terebinthia bearing my dear friends.

When half an hour later the rider had come in, conversed briefly with the guard at the gate, and ridden away again on a fresh horse, I came down from the wall to question the guard. "What news from the east, Thomas?"

Thomas was a tall, mustached man in his forties. He always had amusing anecdotes of his four little ones at home to tell whenever I conversed with him. Now he bowed, smiling. "Go ahead and smile, milady Aravis. Well I know what you're asking after. And indeed, their Highnesses are returned at last, with three Knights and a Lady from Terebinthia. We must needs prepare for their arrival in a few hours. I go to the King."

I held up a hand. "No need, Thomas. I shall tell His Majesty, and make ready the rooms for Their Highnesses and our guests, too. You may return to your post. You'll be the first to greet them."

"My thanks, milady," said Thomas with real gratitude. Cor and Corin were very well liked by all at Anvard. "By the Mane, but it has been dull around here without Their Highnesses!" He grinned, saluted, and returned to the gate.

I smiled, turned, and fair ran to the throne room. King Lune was there, and the two supplicants from Darrow were just bowing to signal the end of the interview.

"Ah, Aravis, my dear," said the King. "Thy coming is well-timed. These two men have half a days' journey before them- they would not stay with us this night but will return to Darrow, their wives, and families."

I curtsied to the two brothers. "Your faithfulness speaks well for you, good sirs," I said.

They bowed. "Lady Aravis," they murmured politely.

"Would it be an inconvenience to thee, Lady, to see that they are fed and their horses tended before they undertake the return journey?" asked the King.

"None at all, Your Majesty. I shall do it as I make sure that your sons' rooms are made ready for them, and four of the guest rooms."

King Lune's eyes brightened, and his apple-cheeks grew red with pleasure. "Cor and Corin return?"

"Yes, sir, with friends from Terebinthia. Three Knights and a Lady, or so I am told."

"Excellent," the King cried. "On with thee, then, good Lady. May thy haste hasten their return."

"Shall I order a feast, sir, when I give these fine gentlemen their dinner?" I asked.

King Lune's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Thou art as foresighted as ever, Lady. Do so, by all means. Let us properly welcome my sons and their guests back to Anvard."

I curtsied, smiling like anything, glad for something to do, and gladder still that I'd see Cor and Corin in a few hours. "Come, good sirs," I said to the two farmers. "Might I beg your names?" I asked them as I led them out of the throne room and to the kitchens.

Tristan and Geoffrey were seated in the kitchen over dinner, and the kitchen boy Terence sent to see about their horses as I discussed supper with the cook.

"Oh, to be sure, Lady," Bertha said happily. "We'll make a right proper celebration of it. There will have to be a roast mutton, and those apple fritters His Highness Prince Corin is so fond of…" and she went off into thoughtful planning about what she'd need for all of five minutes before she began calling out orders for ingredients in her big trumpet of a voice. I left the farmers with a handshake and a smile, and went to go see the steward about the rooms.

* * *

><p>At four o' clock, the trumpets sounded at the gate, and the company from Terebinthia arrived, attendants, guests, and the Princes. I, with King Lune and a good few nobles, went to meet them.<p>

The Terebinthian knights were nobles, sent to return the favour of the Prince's visit and invested with the authority to conclude negotiations. Their names were Sir Edgar, Sir Soren, and Sir Gilbert. The Lady was the younger sister of Sir Edgar. Both were third cousins to the king there, and she had come for an educational, as well as an enjoyable life experience.

Of the three Knights, Soren was the youngest and the handsomest at only twenty years of age- with curling chestnut hair and eyes the colour of a fresh summer sky. But his bow to us- particularly to me, indicated that he knew he was fine-looking. I did not particularly care for the greasy sort of smile he gave me when we were introduced, nor how he held my hand a bit too long after shaking it. Sir Gilbert was more correct- to the point of being so polite it seemed forced. He was rather short, with squinty eyes, and about three years Sir Soren's senior. Sir Edgar was tall and fair-haired, with a little beard. He was five-and-twenty, and I liked him the best of the three on sight.

The Lady was named Jeanette- Jeanette de Viglos, and I hated _her_ on sight. Perhaps it was unreasonable of me, but she was eighteen, and beautiful. Her skin was alabaster. Her hair was a river of gold. Her nose was pert over lips that curved in a laughing pink bow. Her eyes were dazzlingly blue amidst lashes shockingly long and black. And worst of all, she was tall, and full-figured, as a woman ought to be. It was my enduring shame that I had yet to break five feet-two inches in height, and remained boyishly slim. To look at her was akin to a physical blow and the same as a reproach. But that wasn't it- for we had been waiting for them as they approached, and as she had come to the gates I had heard her say in the silence of the courtyard, "My goodness, is _that_ it?"

The Princes themselves were tanned from the summer on the sea, and it was shocking to see them again, and remember how tall and handsome and vibrantly alive they both were. After we were introduced to the guests, they came forward. Both embraced their father first, and then came to me.

Corin took both my hands in his without preamble, and swung me around. "Aravis!" he cried. "By Aslan! Home and Father and you! It _is_ good to be back. Now I shall have someone to talk to other than this blockhead!"

I laughed in delight. "Prince Corin! It is nice to see you, but by all means stop swinging me around like a rag doll. I should like to remember how to stand up straight, if you please. And to greet your brother the blockhead."

He stopped spinning us around, grinning like mad. Impulsively, I kissed him on the cheek.

"Surely, we witness the meeting of great friends," said Sir Edgar with a smile.

"Truly," said Cor, coming forward. "There is none better in the world than Lady Aravis." He took my hands, and gazed on me for a moment. "It's good to see you," he said quietly.

"You've been away for a long time," I said, for the first time in a long time feeling a deep sense of well-being. I rose on tip-toe to kiss him on the cheek, too.

"Shalt we go inside, then?" asked the King. "The steward will show you to your rooms. All has been made ready, friends. You may rest, and freshen up, for tonight we make merry and celebrate!

"Hurrah! A good old fashioned Anvard Feast," Corin cried. "Gentlemen, milady, welcome to Anvard! You'll not soon repent of your visit!"

* * *

><p>When the time came for supper, I had expected Cor and Corin both to come to my door, as they usually did, to escort me down. When the knock came at my door, I opened it to find the Lord Darrin instead of either of them. I did not hesitate to take his arm- he'd been a good teacher and was one of my dearest friends at court now.<p>

"The King sent me for you, milady Aravis," he said in his calm, quiet way. "Their Highnesses of course had to show our guests to the Great Hall."

"Of course," I replied, feeling a bit foolish to have expected anything different. "How are you tonight, Lord Darrin?"

"It is good that the castle is full again," he said. "The King will be glad of the laughter of you young ones in the halls. 'Twould not be surprising if he held a tournament for your enjoyment. You could compete- the Lord Cole has said that you have continued to improve as an archer."

I smiled. "Do you really think it would be proper, though?"

"More than," he assured me. "You have worked hard to attain your skills, Lady Aravis. It is fitting that you should display them- and it does credit to your instructors." _Instructors_, in the plural. He referred to Lord Cole and to Queen Susan. I smiled, a bit sadly. "You do me credit every day," he said, squeezing my arm a little. "And Archenland as a whole. You have become the very jewel of Anvard. You look lovely tonight, milady."

He spoke the words in the proud tone of the teacher. We entered the Great Hall now, all brightly lit with the chandeliers and lanterns. The great Table was all dressed in white and piled high with all manner of good things. The Lord Darrin escorted me to my place, a few places lower than where I usually sat due to the guests. I swept him my finest northern curtsey- it was a joke between us. He smiled. Cor, Corin, the Knights, and Lady were already arrived. Cor was seated next to the Lady Jeanette.

We all sat, and after a brief thanks, tucked in to the rich nutty breads and sharp cheeses, the fresh vegetables and fruits and the savoury meats Bertha and the kitchen staff had slaved over all afternoon. I resolved to go pay her homage tomorrow morning-it was delicious.

The feast was slightly spoiled by watching what was going on up the table. Corin chatted amiably enough with the three Terebinthian knights and King Lune, but the Lady Jeanette was positively _monopolizing_ Cor.

"Archenland is _so_ beautiful this time of year, and this table is all _so_ happy," she simpered. "I'm sure I've never been any place half so enjoyable."

"It is made all the more so by your presence, Lady," said Cor. I nearly gagged on my squash at the cliché compliment.

"Shall I see Your Highness tilt while at Anvard?" she pressed. "You did impress me at the tournament back home, you know."

"Ah, Jeanette, leave the lad be," said Soren.

"Just because he unhorsed _you_, Sir Soren," said the lady wickedly. "I suppose you aren't eager to land on your bum in the Archenland dirt."

"He was lucky," sneered Sir Soren. "Begging your pardon, Your Highness."

"No offense is taken," laughed Cor. "I think I was, actually. To tell the truth, Lady, I'm much more of a swordsman than a jouster."

"Thy modesty does thee credit, Cor," said the King proudly. "But Sir Soren, I do think my son well accomplished in all the knightly arts- or, rather, most of them. He is no great shakes as a boxer or wrestler, or as an archer, but there Corin and the Lady Aravis more than amply make up for his deficiencies."

"Does the Lady box then?" said Sir Edgar in polite disbelief. I shook my head.

"No, sir; I can shoot a bow and ride a horse as well as anybody, but I confess I'm not quite adventurous enough for that."

"Nay, 'tis Corin that is the boxer," said the Lord Cole proudly. "Indeed, among the young men of Archenland he is starting to be called Corin Thunder-Fist."

Corin flushed. "Stupid name, really," he muttered.

"Not at all," said Sir Edgar. "I find it fascinating. I should like to see Your Highnesses' skills- and the Lady's, too, of course," he added, as an afterthought, with a slight upturn of his lip.

"I've never taken it upon myself to learn a sport," Lady Jeanette announced, "But I take great pleasure in serving as spectator."

"And thou shalt!" said King Lune. "Why not? Should we be dull all the day now that guests are come? Nay, Lady Jeanette, shalt see the best the nobility of Archenland have to offer, and I trust thy friends will put forth their best foot in friendly competition. A tournament!"

"A tournament!" cried Corin. "Excellent! When?"

"Two days hence," said King Lune without thought. "It shall be arranged!"

Lord Darrin quirked an eyebrow at me. "I did tell you so," he murmured.

"Your smugness ill suits you, sir," I replied. "Anyway, I never denied it."

* * *

><p>The next morning I was walking alone again while Cor, Corin, the knights from Terebinthia, our own council members and the King were in discussion when the Lady Jeanette came upon me. She curtsied prettily, and I followed suit.<p>

"Lady Aravis," she said in her piping soprano. "It is the Lady Aravis, is it not?"

I nodded my assent. "Lady Jeanette de Viglos," I murmured.

"Might I join you for a turn in the gardens?"

"You may," I said.

She fell into step beside me, and I looked up at her, once more feeling very short and unimportant. "Do you often walk out here?" she asked presently.

"Nearly every morning, unless it rains, and sometimes even then," I said.

"You are queer," she said, "I should never venture out in the rain." She sighed. "It is beautiful, though. I daresay it's also a trifle remote. Surely you must agree; it is rumoured you grew up in Calormen."

"Only until I turned thirteen," I said.

"Still, that is most of your life," she said with a smile. "You're what? Fifteen?"

"Sixteen."

"The cities are very fine there, in Calormen, are they not?"

I looked south towards the wood. "They are," I assented, "But I never cared for them, Lady Jeanette. I have never been happier than in my time here in Archenland, short as it may be comparatively speaking."

She looked faintly surprised. "I always wanted to see the cities in Calormen," she said. "Yet you prefer life here? It is so very out of the way."

"Yes, but nevertheless I do prefer it," I said firmly. Lady Jeanette reminded me vaguely of Lasaraleen, except prettier and she didn't strike me as being as generous.

"To be sure," said Lady Jeanette, "The King Lune is very kind; I've scarce met a kinder man in my life, and everyone I've met seems perfectly agreeable."

"I love the King dearly," I said, with feeling.

"And the Princes?"

I was silent.

Lady Jeanette gave a little silvery laugh. "Come now, Lady Aravis. You are young, but not quite young enough, I think, for it to have escaped your notice that the Princes Cor and Corin of Anvard are very handsome young men indeed."

All this talk of me being young irked me. The girl was scarcely two years older than I! Was she in fact so much more experienced? _I'll bet she wasn't expected to marry and bear children at thirteen_, I thought. But I merely replied. "Perhaps I am too close to know, Lady Jeanette. For nearly four years now they have been as family to me."

"As family," she repeated, eyes dancing. "Yet they are not your brothers. Tell me, do you think them handsome?"

I looked away. "I suppose," I said. In fact, Cor and Corin were very handsome nowadays- far more than the nice-looking I had thought of them both when we met. Both boys had grown tall and muscled, their faces were well-shaped and their expressions pleasing.

"Which do you think the handsomer?" Lady Jeanette pressed. "I declare, I cannot make up my mind. I have not been able to since I met them first on Terebinthia."

"They are twins, Lady," I said pointedly. "They look much alike."

"But not exactly," she argued. "The Prince Cor is leaner. Prince Corin keeps his hair shorter. And the expression in Prince Cor's eyes is more serious. In temperament, too, they are far from identical."

"That is true," I said.

"Surely you must be closer to one than the other, if you know them both so well?"

"I love them both dearly," I said.

Lady Jeanette laughed. "It is apparent that you are not much with women, Lady Aravis. You say nothing at all so charmingly." she said. "I do think I shall have to take you on. You are of course small, but I do think you could make so much more of yourself than you are. Your hair is very thick, but could be arranged much better. And dear, you need to talk more with women. It is altogether evident you have been starved on that account."

I fought a grimace. "Please, Lady Jeanette," I said. "Take no trouble on my account."

"Oh, but see, I should like to be friends. I am already such good friends with the dear Princes- and I know even now I shall like His Majesty exceedingly, that every attachment here is to be encouraged. I should hate to have to go away and never see any of you again."

_I shouldn't hate for that to happen at all, _I thought, but said nothing. The Lady Jeanette appeared to me to be shallow without the excuse of stupidity. And, there was no help for it, standing next to her made me feel like a molting old raven, and I shouldn't hate to actually feel decently about my appearance.

We were near the rose arbor now, where sat a bench looking to the south. A few yellow blossoms tinged with peach tips- a personal favourite of mine they'd had planted for me here still clung to the trellis.

"What a lovely spot," said the Lady Jeanette. "Doesn't it just cry to you it was made for lovers?"

"I generally come here when I want to be alone, instead," I told her. "The bench and the arbor were placed here for me, you know."

"Really? Do you have such influence over them here at Anvard?" she wanted to know.

I looked off. "Do you know so little of the Princes you call such good friends?" I asked, keeping my face straight to avoid any offence.

She laughed. "I cannot think what you mean," she said. "Though they speak of you with great fondness."

I smiled, but contempt was in my heart. Did the lady not know the recent history of the country she was trying to tie herself to?

She talked a little more over nothing, but soon grew bored, and I confess I was not saddened when she made some excuse and made her way back to the castle. I sat there under the arbor for a while, and then a figure came out of the bushes and sat beside me. I turned, startled, then relaxed to see Corin.

"You scared me," I said. "Is the meeting out, then?"

"Yes, a while now," he said. "Cor is showing the guests the library- he hopes they'll find something there to amuse themselves until tonight. Is she gone?" He seemed to be a reflective and not completely happy sort of mood.

I smiled. "Yes. She is all in raptures about how kind everyone is and how beautiful is the country, while all the while she wishes for some more excitement- a city or some such. I cannot sympathize, and will not discuss with her how handsome and agreeable you two idiots are, so she has very politely excused herself."

Corin made a face. "I wouldn't have brought her if I'd had a choice," he said in a low voice. "But Sir Edgar did insist- and there's the deal to make. We've almost come to an agreement…" he stopped, and shook his head. "You don't want to know about that." He chuckled. "_I_ don't want to know about that. Seriously, just before we let out I was on the brink of knocking every single one of the windbags down. But _she_ is rather much."

"She's very pretty."

"Oh, beautiful," he agreed. "But she never has anything remotely interesting to say- and she will go on and flirt with Cor like anything!"

I poked him. "I get it. You're annoyed she ignores you."

Corin snorted. "Please. To be liked by _her_ would be an awful thing. And anyway, Cor is the heir. So he gets first pick of all the pretty girls- but he also has to be king and sit through all sorts of meetings far more boring than the one I've just been to." He shrugged. "I think it's more or less fair." He stood. "Not much fun sitting around here, though. What do you say, Aravis? Ride through the wood? You can tell me all about what's happened since we left."

I rose. "Not much," We began to walk towards the stables. "Bree and Faheen came a while ago…"

* * *

><p>That night, after supper, we retreated to an open room near it, the musicians were called for, a table was set with cards, and we all relaxed to be entertained some. Of course the only ladies present were Lady Jeanette, myself, and the wives of Lord Cole and Lord Colin (Lord Dar being a bachelor and Lord Darrin's wife at home with a sick child, and the other gentlemen of court had decided not to appear), so not many of us danced at any one time, but there was dancing nonetheless.<p>

Cor, as Corin had said, was almost entirely occupied with Lady Jeanette. They danced a few times, and she kept him absorbed in conversation the rest of the time. I found myself rather annoyed for some reason, and was angry at myself for it. It was selfish for me to want him to myself just because of his long absence. Eventually our guests would go away again and he would be here and things would be as before- it was wrong of me to grudge our company his while they were here, even if the company in question _was _as annoying as Lady Jeanette.

Still, Corin, after dancing with Lord Colin's wife Thelma did take me for a merry country dance we'd learned from fauns in Narnia, and after that I found myself out on the floor with Sir Soren.

"Your foot is very light, Lady Aravis," he said, twirling me under his arm.

"Thank you, sir," I replied.

"I understand you are to delight us with your talents tomorrow at the tournament," he said.

"I am."

"I have never met a woman that uses a weapon before," he said. His hand, returned to my back, ventured a bit lower than necessary, though not strictly improper. "Tell me, do you ride also to the wars?"

"It has been our fortune not to have any during my residence here," I told him after executing a particularly complex turn. "But if by some mischance a war should arise, yes, I should go. Should I not protect the home I love as much as the men?"

"You are a Lady of high courage then," he said. "But Archenland is not your home- at least not your original one. The cinnamon tint of your skin, the curl of your ebony hair, all asserts you come from the exotic south, where the spices on the air can be tasted with the tongue." His eyes glittered as he spoke and the tone of his words gave the speech unpleasant undertones, and luckily, then the dance ended, and I walked to my chair. He followed me.

"Indeed, Calormen is the land of my birth, sir," I said uncomfortably, "But I have long since ceased to regard it as home."

"You are loyal to your friends at Anvard," he said. "Such sweetness in your tone—"

"Pray," I said abruptly, standing. "Excuse me. I find I am become weary. I shall retire."

I dropped a small curtsey, murmured an excuse to the King, and went upstairs, leaving Cor behind telling some anecdote at which the Lady Jeanette was laughing affectedly.

I truly did feel sick. I did not like the way Soren of Terebinthia looked at me, as if I was some prize piece of meat. He looked at me in a way that made my relatively modest gown seem to dip too low and cling too tight. He had not said anything improper- but the glitter in his eyes and his ever-so-slightly wandering hands made my skin crawl.

I did not like the way Jeanette looked at Cor- the way he had scarce said three words to me since his arrival the day before. Yet I knew that now as Cor grew older, as he approached the age when princes married, that there would be less and less of his time for me and more and more of it spent interviewing any number of possibly prettier and more irritating girls than Jeanette de Viglos of Terebinthia.

I went to bed, but my sleep was restless.

* * *

><p>The day of the tournament dawned bright and fair. The air was crisp, the wind only enough to send a crimson or golden leaf floating down every now and then.<p>

King Lune had arranged for a tilting lane to be set up, an archery range, and a boxing ring. They seemed to have sprouted, along with chairs and a table for refreshment, on the Great Lawn overnight. Our company- that is, Sir Edgar de Viglos, his sister, Sir Gilbert, Sir Soren, the Lords Dar, Cole, Colin, and Tor of Archenland, the Princes Cor and Corin, King Lune, and myself came out around eleven o'clock that morning. In addition to the Lady Jeanette, the Ladies of Cole and Colin had come to watch their husbands compete.

I breathed in the air and spread my arms out gratefully. On mornings such as this, all the night's unpleasantness seemed to drift away and I simply felt I could fly. I sat with the ladies at first, though I was to compete later on- archery was to be the last competition of the day.

First came the boxing- though in truth only Sir Gilbert among the foreigners, and the Lords Tor and Cole among our own nobles were boxers at all. It wasn't very entertaining to tell the truth- but I had never expected it to be. Corin was a veritable prodigy, and the longest anyone lasted against him was the Lord Cole, his own teacher, and he only for three rounds before Corin knocked him out of the ring with a joyous cry.

"Well and lustily done, my son," cried King Lune as the Lord Cole picked himself up, rubbing his bruised jaw where Corin had hit last. "Truly art thou called Corin Thunder-Fist."

Corin grimaced. "Father, you just ruined it," he informed the King. "Here I am, excited and happy to have knocked old Ironhands out of the ring at last and you've decided to start calling me by that dreadful village nickname. Must you?"

"Indeed he must, Thunder-Fist," I teased. "I don't doubt that your last punch was heard all the way in Hybourough."

"Aravis," he groaned, but smiled, flattered.

Lord Cole himself came over to shake Corin's hand and congratulate him, but then it was time for the tilting.

This was a bit more entertaining- everyone save Sir Gilbert and I participated, and he only abstained on the excuse that the ears Corin had set to ringing would drive him insane within the metal confines of his helm. Here I watched eagerly. Lord Tor was quickly unhorsed- though he held his lance well, he could never keep his seat. As the knights and Lords and Princes competed, it became apparent that three were consistently victors in their matches: the Lord Colin, Sir Edgar, and Prince Cor.

Lord Colin was fast- and stubborn enough that though his lance might shatter- still he never fell off of the horse. Sir Edgar, I thought, was simply so big that it was a difficult task for any man to get him out of his seat. And Cor- well Cor had learned his riding from a Horse, and so was a better rider than any of the others. With this he combined incredible accuracy and strategy. I had seen it before- so had the Lords of Archenland- and on the average he had a bit more trouble with them.

But when he and Lord Colin rode against one another, though both remained in the saddle, and both lances intact, it was Cor's hits that were judged by Lord Cole, who presided, to be the better of the two. Lord Colin complained against his elder brother, but took his leave from the lists with good grace.

It was with heightened interest, after a short rest, that we all watched the bout between Sir Edgar and Prince Cor. "I really do not know whom to root for," professed Lady Jeanette. "I declare, Your Majesty, I've never seen the like of some of the things your son is doing out there, but naturally I cannot wish my brother to take a fall."

"I bet he will, though," said Corin, who had been tossed by his brother himself earlier that day. "Oh, Cor's never knocked me down yet, but the days I beat him in the tilting yard or in a fencing bout nowadays are increasingly few and far between." He laughed ruefully. "And it's not even that he's particularly strong- he's just so _smart _about it."

"I've always thought cleverness in battle is to be admired," I observed. "Strength is all well and good, but in the long run, fighting wisely will keep one alive for longer."

"Well put, dear Lady," said the King. "Though Aslan forbid Cor should ever be put in a situation where he must needs use his head to survive."

The two rode against one another again, and lances met shield with a mighty crash, but neither went flying, though Cor swayed in the saddle, and looked slightly dizzy. They reached the end of the row, turned around to face one another again, and urged their horses to run again.

This time it was to my surprise, and a little to my disappointment that Cor's lance shattered upon impact to Sir Edgar's shield and he was judged the winner. But Cor got off his horse and shook Sir Edgar's hand amiably. "Well played, sir," he said. "I think my armor is still ringing from those hits. A pleasure."

"Don't be too cast down, Highness," said Lady Jeanette as the two came back towards us. "My brother is such an enormous oaf I think it would take a giant to unseat him. But _I_ thought you fought mightily."

Cor bowed in acknowledgment of the compliment, and those of us that were archers prepared for the shooting competition (Lord Cole, Lord Dar, Sir Soren, Sir Gilbert, and I). We were each to have three arrows to shoot at three different distances, and the most consistently good shot would take the laurels.

I limbered up my bow over my knee, rubbing it with oil and with my hands. I focused upon the first target- set twenty paces away from the line. Mine was to be the first shot, by courtesy. The shot on the next target would go to the victor of this. I set the arrow upon the bow, stepped up to the mark, drew the string back to my ear as I'd been taught both by Lord Cole of Archenland and Queen Susan of Narnia, and let fly.

I heard the arrow thud into the target softly, and sighed. I had adjusted the angle perhaps a little too much, and the arrow had landed a little off of the inner ring- not a bad shot- but not a good one.

"Not bad, Lady Aravis," said Sir Gilbert. "Not bad at all. Let us see, however, if I may do better."

He took his shot, and after him went Sir Soren, then Lord Dar, and at last the Lord Cole, who as arms master and general in war-time, excelled at every sport. Mine was not the worst shot- Lord Dar did not shoot as well and Sir Gilbert shot about equal, but Lord Cole and Sir Soren far surpassed me. Sir Soren, indeed, landed very near to the center of the inner ring and won the honour of shooting first at the second target: the one set at forty paces.

I did not misjudge the shot this time around, and when the arrows had been retrieved I was equal to Lord Cole and had passed Sir Gilbert in the line-up for the victory. "Well done, Aravis," called Corin, clapping as the Lord Tor, presiding, called out the score.

Sir Gilbert eyed me resentfully, and Sir Soren looked at me in challenge. I bowed for him to precede me- he had again won the target. This last target was far, far: one-hundred paces away. Sir Soren bowed mockingly, and with the complacency of a man sure he would win his challenge he took his shot. Here he misfired slightly, and the arrow flew, as far as I could tell, slightly south of his aim.

Lord Cole took his shot, and then I stepped up to take mine. I rolled my shoulders back and took a deep breath. Lord Cole gave me a smile. _The bow's just an extension of yourself, Aravis, _I seemed to hear Susan say. I drew back the string, and fired. The arrow flew straight and swift and true. And after Dar and Gilbert had taken their shots- Lord Tor went to the target, looking at the painted rings about each arrow to tell who had won the target.

There was a brief moment of calculation at the far end of the field, and we waited to see who had won overall. Tor came. "By a mere five points," he announced, "Lady Aravis has won the event. Well shot, Lady. Your last arrow hit dead center."

I smiled in satisfaction, but Sir Soren objected."Surely not," he said. "There must be some mistake."

"Here," said the Lord Tor, "See the sheets on which I logged the figures. There is not. Lady Aravis has won."

"But I won the first two targets," he insisted.

"Overall, the Lady's performance was more consistent," Tor said, "And her overall score is higher. Not by much; you truly are a superb archer, Sir Soren."

"I insist on a rematch," Soren said. "There was a breath of wind on my last shot."

"There was not," I said. "I would have felt it."

Lord Tor said, "I must agree with the Lady, Sir Soren; I monitored it all most closely."

King Lune called over to us, "Is there some problem, friends?"

"Not at all, Your Majesty," replied Lord Tor, looking at Sir Soren. He glared at me, but said nothing, and we returned to the party.

Refreshments were served, and after eating, we all headed back to the castle: Corin with the Lords of Archenland and the King, discussing the match walked ahead of me, and Cor with the Terebinthian nobles, discussing the same walked behind. I walked a little apart from both, anxious to change, but Soren came and caught up with me.

"You must have cheated," he said in a spiteful whisper.

"How would I have managed that, pray?" I said coldly.

"Weighted arrows, I know not, but you could not have won."

"Sir Soren, you forget yourself," I said, holding my temper, but barely. "There was no prize- this was but a friendly tournament. Losing to me is no dishonour, but you would do yourself better credit if you acknowledged it and then forgot it."

"I cannot have lost," he repeated. "I'm the finest archer in Terebinthia." His eyes glittered. "I suppose you bribed the Lord Tor to declare you the winner. Well I know how a woman, even a young seemingly innocent one, may use low cunning and bodily _persuasion _to deceive a respectable man. I marked you out for the type on my arrival. No doubt you learned the art in Calormen."

My eyes widened. "Sir Soren," came a ringing, cold voice. We had slowed as I became more angry, and Cor and his party had apparently drawn near enough to overhear. I turned to look at him. He appeared taller than I had ever seen him, and was giving off a sort of force. His eyes bored into the face of the offender, and they were like stone in his face. For the first time in my life, I was afraid of Cor.

"You will apologize," he said. It was not a request. "The speech I heard just now ill-befits you as a knight, and moreover dishonours the Lady Aravis. You will apologize, acknowledge her win, and I trust you will take care to never let another word slighting her pass your lips, in my hearing or out of it."

"Apologize?" laughed Sir Soren angrily. "Why should I apologize to some Calormene harlot who shoots like a man with no shame?"

Cor's face hardened, if possible, even more. "Sirrah, were you not my own guest, I should make you give satisfaction for your insolence," he said.

"Cor…" I began.

Sir Gilbert spoke up. "Surely there is no need for this unpleasantness, gentlemen. Sir Soren is merely upset for losing a competition. I pray, do not regard his words."

"In truth, though, the…lady…should not have been permitted to compete," said Lady Jeanette, smiling in what appeared to be disbelief at the dear prince's unreasonableness. "Surely you must see that, Your Highness."

"Indeed, I see no such thing," said Cor in that same hard, cold tone. "Nor do I see how even if there were any impropriety, such rudeness is at all excusable. Again, I say, Sir Soren, apologize."

"Well I see how it is," Sir Soren says with a sneer. "The little Calormene minx has let you in on a bit of the action, too; though she was cold enough last night I never would have guessed."

Cor paled. His eyes flashed, and his fists clenched. Through gritted teeth he managed, "Aravis, go inside."

"Cor—"

"Oh, she calls him Cor," mocked Sir Soren, and though Sir Gilbert looked a bit pained, neither Edgar nor his sister looked in the slightest disturbed by his rudeness.

"Go!" rapped out Cor. I gave him one last look, and went inside.

* * *

><p>I had supper in my room that night for fear of meeting the Terebinthians again- and the next morning I was surprised to find out that they had not been there at all. Winifred my maid told me, in great excitement, that Cor last night had sent for horses and escort, and basically ordered the entire party back home without any explanation to anyone whatever. He had ordered the fastest ship to take them home as could be managed on such short notice. And negotiations were not concluded, and His Highness himself was not to go with them- and it was only to be assumed that there had been some dreadful fallout between His Highness and the visitors.<p>

Cor was in awful trouble with the nobles and his father, she said. "He's in with them all now, and Corin, too, explaining whatever he was thinking of to be packing them off so rudely for. Whatever business they has is of course impacted, you know, milady, and the Lord Dar, in particular, was most upset."

"Thank you, Winifred," I said. "I will take my tray down to the kitchens myself."

"As you please, milady," she said. "But isn't it exciting?"

And she left, I thought, with all the speed she could manage, to go gossip over the whole affair with the footman.

I was most annoyed. That Cor should let an entire trade agreement fall through because one knight had refused to apologize for being a pig- it was the epitome of chivalric stupidity. Oh, could he not have simply stopped the odious man and kept him away until the business had been concluded? I must suppose that after he'd ordered me to go there had been still further disagreement- with the rest of the Terebinthian party backing Sir Soren up and disparaging me.

I returned my tray to the kitchens, and walked by the room where a helpful attendant had told me they were all shut up, but the doors were still closed and voices still went on inside of them.

I wondered if Cor would even tell them what it all was about. I half hoped he would- without the true and complete story he would have no defense whatever, however foolish I thought it. But the other half of me earnestly hoped he wouldn't. I hated to be the source of trouble to anyone- and if he should repeat such things as Soren had said!

I wandered up and down the corridor, but it was not 'til two hours past the dinner hour that the doors opened and Cor finally emerged, looking weary, but not the slightest bit repentant. He came to meet me at once.

"That was a whole lot of fuss over that," he said. "I assume Winifred told you what went on?"

"Yes," I said. "It was an extraordinarily stupid thing to do- dismissing them all like that without concluding the business. You might have waited until everything was arranged to be rude."

"They were rude first," he argued. "You didn't hear what they said afterwards- even Sir Edgar- and I'd always thought him a tolerably decent chap." He looked stony again for a moment. "I'm glad you didn't hear it," he said in a low voice.

"Did you get in terrible trouble?" I asked.

"Ah, sure," Cor said, shrugging, as if that wasn't important. "Lord Dar- you know he's big on the economics and trade- he went on and on about it, and courtesy, and how I'd been rash, rude, even _despicable_," he said, putting on the horrified tone Lord Dar used when particularly put out. He looked a bit awkward. "I had to tell them some of what went on eventually," he said. "I _am_ sorry, Aravis; it couldn't be helped. But Lord Tor was a brick: he said that there had been some trouble after the tournament and that…_that man_…hadn't seemed to get over it." He spat the words 'that man' as if talking about something disgustingly nasty. I supposed that he was. "And after that—they weren't so _very_ angry at me. Father said that however important was trade, we must always be sure we didn't compromise our honour to attain it, and we must act with dignity and loyalty towards all of our friends. I think, actually, he's rather proud of me- the more so that I didn't run Soren through and send the rest back on foot to the port. _Not_ that I wouldn't have liked to," he said, with relish. "Corin's angry I didn't," he said thoughtfully, "And he doesn't even know the half of it."

"Probably best he wasn't there then," I said firmly. We walked out towards the terrace. "You oughtn't to have," I said quietly. "Still, it's hard to be angry with you- seeing as it was me you threw them out for- but really, Cor, practically speaking, one person is not worth losing a trade deal with a nation."

"It's not one person, though," said Cor, as we emerged out onto it, looking out over the garden and the valley. "It's you. And if they cannot respect intelligent, strong, capable women, or at least don't have the courtesy to keep their venom in their mouths…" he shrugged. "They're not the kind of people we want to be dealing with anyway."

I sighed in exasperation. "You can't banish important people from the castle every time they're rude to me, Cor," I told him. "Though it's sweet of you to want to." I put my hand over his. "Try to understand. I've always known living up here that I would run into a great many enemies of Calormen. There are going to be many more people that aren't going to care for me, simply because there are a great many idiots that cannot see past the colour of my skin to me, or will not."

Cor's shoulders tightened. "Then we'll make it our business to educate them," he said. He looked at me sideways. "Anyway, you can't tell me you're not glad they're gone. I know you've probably felt a bit neglected the past few days."

"That's not the point," I pressed. Cor turned though, to face me. He held my gaze, green eyes steady on my face with determination, absolutely no regret, the clear expression that he'd do it again, and something I didn't quite grasp in their depths. I stopped what I was going to say before it got past my lips, swallowed it, took a breath, and instead said simply, "Thank you."

"C'mon, I'll walk you to your room," he said. "Anyway, Aravis, I'm glad they're gone. To tell the truth, I was running out of charming things to say to 'Lady Jeanette de Viglos'!" he pronounced the name in an affected Terebinthian accent.

I suddenly felt a warm bubbling in my stomach. "She was very pretty," I said.

He shrugged. "To tell the truth, I didn't notice. The demand for attention, the affected amazement, little half-insults took away from all that from the beginning, and after…but, never mind that," he amended as he approached something awful she must have said upon their last encounter. "I'm glad it's just us again," he said instead. He still retained the hand I had given him on the terrace. "You and me and Corin. I missed that while I was away. Always had to be so careful what I said."

"Oh, Aslan forbid you don't get to say something absolutely witless every now and again," I cracked.

"Exactly," he grinned, bumping his shoulder with mine playfully.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So the last was really only HALF of a chapter- a little scene I wanted to put in just because. So I deemed it fit to give you this the very same day! Thanks for all the input you're giving me. This came out tolerably well, I think. Terribly long, of course, but I don't really have a scene in it I truly repent of. Please, if you have any criticism, give it in the form of a review. I'd be delighted to know what you think I could have done better- or can do better in the future. Please, if you have any praise, give it in the form of a review. I'll be equally delighted (honestly, a little bit more) to hear what in particular you enjoyed. **

**God Bless!**

**L.**


	19. Changing

**Disclaimer: You'll recognize the OCs. But I still garner no merit from them.**

Chapter Nineteen

Yet another caravan of young knights, ladies, and their noble mothers were had gone from Anvard. I was eighteen now, and the snowdrops and crocuses were just starting to poke their heads up out of the cold ground. In a few weeks, Cor and Corin would pass their twentieth birthday. The castle at Anvard was far more active than it had been when I had first come now- a few of the older nobleman's children had come to court- young men and women in their teens. There weren't many of them, but enough that there were balls occasionally, and a supper in the Great Hall every night. And of course every two months or so some princess or duchess would come with a convoy from Terebinthia, or Galma- there had even been a Lady from Narnia and one from the far western country of Telmar, just recently emerging from barbarianism.

I knew why they came. We all did. King Lune had aged much in the nearly six years I had lived here in Archenland. He had aged happily- but he had lost much of his old strength. The King that had killed a Calormene soldier in his prime at the gate was gone. But the old Hermit had passed on, and the King's hair had turned gray throughout, and thoughts were turning now to Cor- and the future succession of the Archenland throne. Lune might live years yet, but no-one wanted Archenland ever to be left in the conundrum that had plagued Narnia four and a half years ago- there was an increasing murmur in the land for a princess to be chosen- and an heir produced.

Cor and Corin were grown to manhood. Both stood six foot-two in their stocking-feet, and had ample beauty and ample charm, regardless of their power, to attract numerous eligible young ladies. Corin flirted and made up to them all- laughing and escorting them about Anvard, favouring now one, now another. He had no objection to ladies in general, but the old laundry women at court speculated it would be years before he finally settled on one. But for him, of course, it was fine. He was not the king-presumptive. He could take his time in choosing a bride- and once Cor married and had a child, he might well decide never to marry at all.

But Cor had proven frustratingly reluctant to even look at all the pretty young women that were paraded- or paraded themselves- for his perusal. He was polite, always; he never gave offense and ever did his duty to the guests at Anvard, but I could not recall one lady he had ever shown any particular attention, even for a week. Not to say that he was ignorant of his expectations. He was not. Indeed, as the months had gone by he had been ever tenser when he talked to me, or to Corin, or to both of us.

I felt for him keenly- I had been once expected to marry. And though no-one expected Cor to marry without affection- or would drive him to the aisle, I could sympathize with the way the nobles had started breathing down his neck about it.

Indeed, I had been subject to some embarrassing inquiry myself. I, too, was grown. I had undergone a growth spurt the last two years- and though I would never be tall or traditionally beautiful, I was no longer puny and boyish, and could even acknowledge when I looked in the glass that I was grown rather pretty. I was still King Lune's ward- still acted as mistress of Anvard on an unofficial basis. I was thought to be rather an important woman in Archenland, though nobody, least of all I, knew exactly why or how. I had no money besides what I was given by the good King, no rank to speak of, yet there had been knights both Archenlandish and foreign that had sought my favour in the past year or so.

I had no interest in them. As charming, as handsome, as rich and titled as they could be, I had found no one yet I deemed worth leaving Anvard and the king's family for. I did not know what I should do when the King died, or Cor and Corin both married. It was, nowadays, a little source of increasing disquiet for me. But every day and every man that came along, I could not help thinking, _not yet. _So up until now I had nodded, paid my courtesies to my suitors, and sent them along to someone more favourably disposed.

The last one had come with a convoy from the Lone Islands- Sir George- a most impressively mustached young knight of three-and-twenty. I suspected he wore the mustache to make himself intimidating- at the Christmas games he had proven miserably incompetent in the other knightly arts that might give others reason to believe him a force to be reckoned with. He was an able enough singer- but the songs he wrote to sing were terrible- I knew from unfortunate experience. A good half dozen had been written for me- a dubious honour I could have done very well without.

I had not responded to Sir George's professions of admiration- indeed, had not encouraged them in the least, but he had proven stubbornly persistent. In the end I had had to outright tell him of my disinterest, fortunately only three days before his sulky departure with the Lady Vivian and her attendants. She had, after nigh three months, finally despaired of winning over Cor, and decided to leave with grace.

I had not been unhappy to see them go. There was work to be done now, as the raging thunderstorms of early spring flooded the rivers and ravaged the villages of Archenland- work that could not reasonably be done if there were parties and balls every day.

Today, in accordance with this, I was riding out with a small party to Tirravale, the nearest village to the west. A storm four days prior had hit it particularly hard- blowing off the red tiled roofs of many a house- and one of the village's citizens, a mere boy of fifteen, had drowned in the swollen river in the squall.

Corin, his father, and the Lord Cole and his wife were gone to Darrow to see about a flooded field there- but Cor, young Lord Gregor son of Lord Ansel, and the Lord Colin's Lady wife Thelma were with me.

As we arrived in the village the villagers came out to meet us. Their faces were long with sorrow and tired and hard as a result of nights in the cold spring air. Here and there lay puddles of muddy yellow water- to the left of the village down from the mountains flowed the river, loud and dirty and malevolent.

"Your Highness," said the leader of the village, a tall, thin, man with a sparse quantity of rough brown hair. "My Lord, My Ladies, I am Dorrin, mayor of Tirravale. Welcome, such as it is. I am afraid we cannot make you very good cheer."

"We are not come for cheer," said Cor, dismounting from his horse and shaking the man by the hand. "But to aid you in your time of trouble. Tell me, Master Dorrin, what needs be done here? Here is Gregor, son of Ansel, and I. We offer you our hands to help rebuild and to ease your care anyway we may. Here is the Lady Thelma, wife to Colin, and the Lady Aravis. Were any injured in the storm? They bring medicine."

Dorrin nodded. "A few of our rooftops blew into houses," he said. "We have perhaps seven whose wounds need cleaning and bandaging- though of course we have set any broken bones. Today it is fair- we are rebuilding. Two pair of strong hands would not go amiss, if it is not beneath you."

"How can it be, sir?" asked Cor. "We are men just as you are. The honest labour of your village and others like it provides us with a living. What sort of men would we be if we refused you aid when you required it?" He rolled up his sleeves. "Show us where to go."

"Come now, dear," said Lady Thelma, a round and red-faced woman in her late thirties. She had served sometimes as a mentor of mine growing up. "Get the antiseptics out of the saddlebags, and the bandage-linen. Also the lavender, aloe, and caligula."

Dorrin called out, "Hullo! Madam Ingrid?" A tall, capable looking woman emerged from one of the houses. "These ladies have medicine. If you could show them where they might find the injured?"

Ingrid nodded, and made a little rough bow to us. "Well, come on then," she said brusquely. "I daresay there's enough of 'em that need your help. Master Tolly first- his roof fell in- he sheltered his tiny daughter but got terrible scraped up himself. Here-little Gia ought to help us with it."

She led us through the village, to all who needed aid, and after the first house, little Mistress Gia, six years old, followed along, determined to do what she could to help us. She was a sweet child, all red-cheeked and fair-headed. She seemed to find me particularly fascinating- I doubt she had ever seen skin of my colour before, and her father saw no harm in her bringing water (from the pump, not the river), fetching and carrying, and tying what bandages she could. Neither did I. Thelma was entirely enchanted by her.

We had doctored all that needed it ere noon, and Madam Ingrid and a few of the other wives had come out and had proposed we make a collective lunch for the men- hard at work on the rooftops. Without so much as a by-your-leave Lady Thelma and I were put to watching boiling pots and baking bread at Madam Ingrid's house.

In vain were my protests that I could not cook or bake. "For shame, Lady Aravis," scolded Ingrid. "A great girl of eighteen like you? Highborn Lady or not, you ought to know how to watch a loaf of bread so it doesn't burn. You've eyes, haven't you? Hands?"

I nodded helplessly, amused. She brandished the spoon with which she was stirring a steaming cauldron of very good-smelling stew. "Then, to it, girl! Mind it doesn't burn! The men-folk will be hungry by and by."

I found her reasoning quite overpowering. By me, Lady Thelma was adding spices to a pie for later. She laughed gently. "You ought to come down to the villages more often, milady," she said. "Really, there's nothing like it for wearing one out in the best possible way and dispensing with any pride or delusions of grandeur one's garnered over the years. Here we're all just women of Archenland. It's incredibly good for me to remind myself of that, every now and then." She looked out the open door, across the way. "Look, Lady, there's His Lordship Gregor, hammering away on the rooftop with Master Sel, for all he was dancing at Anvard last week. He's a good lad."

Gia skipped inside the house in great excitement. "Lady! Lady!" she cried. "Lady Aravis!"

"Yes, Mistress Gia?" I asked.

She glowed with pleasure to be so addressed. "I saw the Prince," she reported. "He's up fixing Gemma's roof." She sobered for a moment. "It was her son that died," she said soberly. "Drowneded. She's very sad about it. I'm sad, too. Mr. Hollis used to give me piggyback rides. But he's helping her fix the holes in her roof, so maybe she'll be happy about that?"

She looked up at me for assurance. I ruffled her hair. "I don't expect Madam Gemma will be happy for a long time," I said. "A son is a lot to lose. But I'm sure she'll be grateful to Prince Cor."

"He's very handsome," said the child. "I don't think there's a handsomer Prince anywhere in the world! Do you know him?"

"Yes, Mistress Gia, I know the Prince. I came here today with him, you know."

"Do you know him quite well?" she demanded.

"Little Miss Gia," laughed Ingrid. "You've heard the stories of how Prince Cor came to Archenland?"

She nodded excitedly. "Yes, how he rode across the desert after ever so long and saved his Father- but he didn't know it was his Father then- from the wicked Calormene Prince. You've told me, Ingrid!"

"You remember who rode with him?" Ingrid questioned the child.

"Yes! A beautiful Calormene princess, running from an unfair marriage to a horrible ugly tyrant! That's my favourite part of the story," Gia said.

I laughed. "I don't know about beautiful," I said, "And Ahoshta was more of a monkey than a tyrant, though he certainly was ugly."

She blinked at me. "Lady Aravis, was that you?"

I nodded gravely. "I've known the Prince Cor since before he was the Prince Cor- or, at least, since before he knew he was."

"Are you a princess?" she asked.

"Not anymore, Mistress Gia," I told her. "Now I'm a Lady of Archenland, just like you, and happy to be so!"

"But you are beautiful," she said, looking up at me fixedly. "You're the beautifullest Lady I've ever seen." I smiled, touched.

"Most beautiful, little Gia," I corrected gently.

"Most beautiful, then." She said.

"Thank you," I said. "Mmm. The bread smells good. Do you think it's done?"

She nodded excitedly. "I'm hungry," she said.

"Me, too, but we mustn't eat until the men have," I told her. "They've been working hard in the sun all day long."

"We've been working hard all day, too," she protested.

"Tell you what, little Miss Gia," Ingrid said from her place by the cauldron over the fire as I carefully grabbed a cloth and removed the bread pan from the oven. "If you run and fetch all the villagers to the square for dinner it'll seem sooner when you get it."

"I'll do it!" cried Gia, and was gone in a whisk of blonde hair and white smile.

"Oh, to have such energy," Lady Thelma sighed.

Shortly the food made in Madam Ingrid's house was taken down to the village square, along with the food half a dozen other ladies had made in their respective houses- good, hot, solid food made in quantities to fill the nigh hundred-fifty villagers. Everyone came out of their houses, bearing their own earthenware bowls and wooden utensils.

I noticed as I sliced the bread with a sharp knife Ingrid had lent me and passed it out to the villagers that the faces were a little happier since this morning. Everyone was talking to their neighbours, expressing hopes that the sun would dry up the river and there would be a good harvest after all this year. Cor and Gregor were among the last to come receive their luncheons, and on the way they received many a kind word and thump on the back for the work they'd been doing. Their hands were dirty, their hair curled up with sweat, but both were smiling broadly.

"Many thanks, ladies," Lord Gregor said with a bow as he took his stew and bread. "This food could not be better timed- or more graciously given."

After the men were eating, the servers, women, and children came to get their share and went to join their families, neighbours, and friends. I went to sit down on a doorstep to observe the scene with pleasure- people were exchanging stories of young Hollis now- happy stories about good things he had done and funny things he had said to someone or other in years past. Gia found me soon enough, stew dribbling down her chin. She sat down very close to me, and I took a piece of my bread and sopped it up. She opened her mouth wide and I popped it in.

"Tell me about Anvard," she demanded. "What's it like?"

I began to describe the reddish brown stone of the ramparts-the meandering paths in the flower gardens, my own little bench that looked south and my room with its red silken Lion from Queen Lucy of Narnia. I told her of the histories on the tapestries in every corridor, and the tournaments in which Prince Corin always knocked down all comers and Prince Cor could bash anyone at all off his horse.

"Now that's not quite true, Aravis. You're telling the little girl stories," said Cor. I looked up. I had not expected him to come over here. I smiled.

"You've been eavesdropping," I accused him in turn.

"Not at all. Just waiting for a chance to introduce myself to the Lady." He bowed gravely. "Hello, Lady. I am Prince Cor, at your service. Will you do me the honour of telling me your name?"

I hid a smile as the little girl looked up at him with wide, wide blue eyes. "I'm Gia," she said.

"Gia. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Reluctantly I must inform you that I cannot bash anyone at all off his horse but only _most _anyone."

She stared at him solemnly, and reached out to take my hand. "Lady Aravis- he's talking to me," she whispered.

"So he is," I whispered back. "Are you going to talk to him, too?"

She seemed to look very hard at him for a moment, and then she smiled. "Have you finished your dinner, sir?"

"Yes, and it was very, very good. Did you make it?"

"No- they won't let me near the ovens yet," she told him. "But Lady Aravis made the bread!"

Cor looked at me in surprise. I felt myself blushing. "Watched while it baked," I muttered. "It's an entirely different thing."

"Still, a worthy accomplishment. She deserves congratulations," he told Gia, smiling at me.

Gia patted the step next to her. "You can sit with us," she told him.

"Thank you," he replied gravely, sitting down next to her.

"I'm going to go to Anvard one day," she told him. "I'm going to meet the King- and dance at a ball- and Lady Aravis is going to show me her bench underneath the roses. Aren't you, Lady Aravis?" she applied to me again, remembering she hadn't asked yet.

"I certainly shall, if you ever come to Anvard," I said. "I promise."

Gia turned to Cor again, all serious blue eyes. "I love Lady Aravis," she announced. "She's beautiful, and smart, and nice, and I don't care one bit that she's not a princess anymore."

I was touched. My eyes stung. She reminded me vaguely of Hashafed. I put an arm around her, and she returned the embrace quickly.

"She's certainly something," Cor said softly, supposedly to Gia, but his eyes looked over her head at mine.

"Do _you_ love Lady Aravis, too?" Gia demanded. I stood up.

"Look, Mistress Gia!" I said. "They're bringing out the instruments to sing and dance. Shall we join them?"

Distracted, Gia nodded. She grabbed my hand and all but dragged me over to the other side of the square. I wasn't reluctant to leave Cor. I couldn't even bring myself to look at his face after the question Gia had asked with typical childish tactlessness.

No doubt he _did_ love me, in the sense she talked of- that is, in thinking me attractive, clever, and nice. He'd said as much on various occasions. We had been through adventures together, grown up closely together, and he was still my closest friend. But there was another, more grown-up sense of the word he was looking-or others were looking for him- to apply to a young lady. It was far too important to all of our lives at Anvard now to be much out of my mind, or to fail to embarrass me when the word was mentioned.

The utterly infuriating part was that I was made uncomfortable at all by Gia's harmless question, I thought, clapping as the child danced to a simple folk dance of the spring with her father. I ought to have been able to say that Cor was like a brother to me with no shame, and have done with it. But he was _not_ a brother to me, or just a friend. And to hear Cor say I was a dear sister, or even a very old friend in reply to the child's query- my cheeks burned, and my head buzzed in confusion. I knew not what I thought.

But after everyone had digested, there was work to be done, and I was able to forget about my confusion in the business of it. Madam Ingrid was just as shocked to hear I'd never washed a pan as to hear I'd never baked a dish- and without any ado she sent me out to the pump with soap in hand.

I looked at the empty, dirty stew cauldron with misgiving. Then I rolled up my sleeves and set to work- it couldn't be that hard- I'd seen the kitchen maids washing a pot often enough. I was surprised to find that it was indeed a chore. The tidbits of meat and dried broth and vegetables did not release their grip on the iron without a fight. I scrubbed and scrubbed till my fingers were red and pruny and the iron shone brightly in the afternoon sunlight. I was surprised to find myself sweating slightly. I looked at the shine in satisfaction, though, and feeling no little victory returned the cauldron to Madam Ingrid.

The villagers- and Cor and Gregor- were just fastening the last red tiles to the roofs of Tirravale. As the sun began to dip behind mountains that rose up still higher in the west, we were given bread and cheese, and our skins filled with water for the journey back to Anvard.

"Thank you for your hard work," said Master Dorrin, patting Gregor on the shoulder and shaking Cor by the hand. "Two stouter Archenland lads I've never seen. Pray send my compliments and allegiance to your Father, your Highness."  
>"It will be done," Cor said. "May your year continue on better than it has so far, Master Dorrin. May those roofs we put on today last you many seasons."<br>I was fastening Renetta's bridle back on when I felt a tug at my dress. I looked down to see Gia. "Please, Lady Aravis, I picked these for you." She held out a tiny bouquet of snowdrops. I took them from her with a smile, tying them to the reins.

"Thank you, Mistress Gia. They're very pretty."

She looked up at me, eyes huge in her tiny, red-cheeked face. "You will come back, won't you? You and Prince Cor?"

I reached down to ruffle her blonde hair. "I promise," I told her. She darted forward, gave me a quick hug, and then raced off. I watched her go.

I mounted, and followed Lady Thelma, Cor, and Lord Gregor out of Tirravale.

It was well after the moon had come out when we arrived back at Anvard, pleasantly fatigued, and not much inclined to talking. I put up Renetta, rubbed her down, and made sure she had ample water and food, before walking out.

Cor was there at the corner of the stables waiting. He fell in step beside me as he had done so many times before.

"What a splendid day," he said.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it?"

"I wish it could always be like this."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Just good, clean, honest work with honest people," he said.

"It makes for a change from the balls and parties, to be sure. Their lives are harder- but I'm not sure that they are not freer for the labour. Lady Thelma was saying we need that, every now and again."

"You were certainly making friends," he said, smiling a little.

"Gia is a dear. I really shall have to keep my promise and visit her some other day."

"Take me with you," he said. "Maybe it'll get me out of one of those awful tea parties- or a meeting." He frowned. "There's another I have to go to tomorrow."In the lantern light I could see his eyebrows draw together, and something of resentment had entered his tone.

"You're not looking forward to it, then."

"That's a mild way of putting it."

"Boring meetings and awful social events are just as much part of your duty as scrambling about on a roof rebuilding a village," I said.

"Oh, duty, duty, duty," he said, kicking at a stone in the path. "Aravis, I'm getting so that I hate the word!"

"You are the Crown Prince of Archenland," I said.

"I know it. I can't get away from it, either," he said grumpily. "Aravis- it's really not that bad," he admitted. "Most days. I mean, we're at peace with everybody- even Calormen, and that whole issue with Terebinthia was cleared up ages ago. I like all of the ordinary people- like the ones we met and helped today- and they like me. I know how to handle most everything they ask me to do nowadays- it's just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "As Prince- there's no-one really that cares what_ I _want. Everything I do has to be for the good of somebody else, and I have to be so blasted _polite_ all the time and say and do just the right things!" Here he kicked at the ground again. "It's stupid, I know," he said after a little bit.

"No," I said. "It's not. I guess, in your situation, you probably wonder sometimes where the Prince ends and Cor begins."

"Most of the time there's no difference," he said.

I looked at him. "You're feeling sorry for yourself."

He sighed. "All right," he admitted, searching for something to like again. "I feel myself around Father and Corin," he said after a bit. "Just the three of us. Or when Bree and Hwin visit- and I can talk to them." He reached out, snagged my hand. "There's you, too. I'm me around you. Especially around you. You're my best friend, Aravis."

I squeezed his hand. "Always." I said. "And you always should be you, you know, even amidst your duty. You need to take time to just let yourself be. I don't think you do, often enough. The King won't always be around, you know- and Bree and Hwin aren't always here. Corin gets sent out on diplomatic missions all the time- and when you're King you won't always be going with him. I think…" I hesitated. "I think it's going to be very important for you to find a way to stay Cor- to stay you- even when you're King."

"I don't want to be King," he muttered.

"I know." I told him. "But you'll be a good one. The man that can get his hands dirty to help some villagers rebuild storm-hit houses, that same stubborn decency and sense of duty you've always had- you make a good Prince, and you'll be a good King, too. And you'll do it in your _own_ way, not merely in the way that's expected of you." I stopped him at the castle entrance and made him look at me. "And I can tell you now, Prince Cor, that Archenland will love you for it."

He smiled a bit crookedly, holding open the big wooden door. "How do you always know what to say?"

"By measure of my incomparable wisdom," I said, grinning up at him. "Far greater than you can ever hope to attain."

"Don't I know it," he said, surprisingly serious. He looked down at me in the light of the entryway. He looked like he was thinking very hard of something. The hand not holding mine came up- and stopped- a hair's breadth from my cheek. I could feel the warmth off his palm. I shivered. "You know, Aravis-"he began.

"Yes?" I said: my voice much quieter than I intended it to be.

He shook his head ever-so-slightly, and the hand dropped. "Thank you. Just thank you. Come on, we'll see if Bertha has anything we can scrounge from the kitchens before bed."

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><p><strong>AN: This was originally just an event in the next chapter. Then I decided it deserved more than that. So I pulled it out, expanded on it, and now I gift it to you. I'm working very hard on finishing up- I've one chapter to edit and two and half, roughly, to write, unless I decide to add another chapter after this one or rewrite all of the next one again. Quite possible, I warn you. I've been struggling with this for weeks. Romance is NOT my strong suit any more than it is C.S. Lewis'. Leave a review and give me some pointers!**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	20. Almost Everyone is Upset by Something

**Disclaimer: We're coming to Lewis again- and I must AGAIN render all credit for these characters and universe back to his genius. Without him and his story none of my OC's or plots could exist; they're dependant that way, though I hope they aren't parasites.**

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><p>Chapter Twenty<p>

When I awoke the next morning the sun was already high in the sky. I wondered at how tired I must have been the night before; I was usually an early riser. Winifred must have been very quiet, for a fire was already burning in the grate. My stomach rumbled. I rose, dressed, and left to get food from the kitchens.

Walking the corridors of Anvard, I was sensible of some lifted tension in the air. I passed the conference room on the way, and as Lord Ansel came out, instead of scowling at the wall and walking on, he doffed his cap, bowed low, and wished me a pleasant day. I exchanged a few pleasantries, a little confused, and went on my way.

I got into the kitchens, and Bertha greeted me. "Ah, milady Aravis. I thought you'd be down here this morning. Winifred came and told me you were a bump on a log this morning, and I thought how late you'd been in here last night with His Highness, and didn't wonder. Sit ye down, then. I saved you some breakfast." She sat a platter of ham and eggs and toast and butter before me, and a glass of milk.

"Bertha, I can never thank you enough," I told her, digging in with relish.

"It does me good to see the way you tuck into your food, milady, and that's fact. Nancy, tend to the fire now, it'll never do to have it go out, and the King's dinner due in two hours' time. Now, Lady Aravis, you'll never guess what young Larrin told us half an hour ago."

"Larrin?"

"Him that waits on the Lords in the mornings," she clarified.

"At the meetings? Aren't they usually dreadfully dull?" I asked, swallowing a mouthful of egg.

"So they are- he usually doesn't say anything about them- but today he says they start on His Highness Prince Cor about a princess again. They've been doing that for months, now, it's nothing new, and surely we'd all be happy to see the dear boy wed, but this time, Larrin says, His Highness stops them."

I blinked. "Stops them?"

Bertha nodded. "Stops them. Here, Rona, give those herbs to Salla- she'll need them for the dressing. Anyway, milady, he says _he's made up his mind_, he does, and that their Lordships don't need to bother bringing anymore Ladies around here at Anvard- that he's in touch with the Lady he has in mind."

I put down my fork. My blood ran cold. "He's made up his mind," I repeated. "Cor is betrothed?"

"Bless you, dear child, of course he's not! He would have said so at once if he was. But he's in love and he's decided it's no good letting all those Ladies break their hearts over him anymore." She smiled. "Just as well- I always have to learn their appetites and favourite foods when they come."

"The Lady- did Larrin mention her name?" I managed.

"No, that he didn't, because His Highness didn't either. The Lords pressed him; of course they did- but all he'd say is she was worthy and that was to be the end of it. I imagine His Majesty knows a bit more about it. Maybe His Highness is writing to the Lady- gracious knows he writes enough letters everyday, or so the messenger says. But really, Lady Aravis, who could hold out for long against the dear Prince? A better young man I've never seen and you ought to know. In any event, I imagine there's soon to be a wedding at Anvard! Are you done with your food then?"

I looked down at my half-finished breakfast, just remembering it was there. "Oh, yes, my apologies," I said. "Please, Bertha, excuse me…"

I gave an awkward half bow and walked out of the kitchens, dazed. A wedding at Anvard! Cor's choice was made! I hadn't seen him signify one Lady out from all the rest- the first inclination was to completely disbelieve the gossip. But Larrin had been there- and Bertha wasn't the type to get her facts wrong. And Cor had never once lied to anyone. So it must be true- there must be a lady he'd liked better: one I hadn't noticed and he hadn't told me about. He'd written to her? Maybe been writing to her for months? And had made up his mind now that he was going to pursue her exclusively.

She hadn't accepted him. That, too, was a valid assumption of Bertha's. Cor was the sort that would, once he had decided to reveal something, reveal it all at once. Perhaps she wouldn't ever accept him? But that was unlikely. Cor was handsome, courteous, powerful, and just plain _good_. On what possible grounds could any woman refuse him at all, let alone for long?

I could hardly think straight. The corridors were spinning. I imagined it- Cor's eyes shining out in love and admiration, standing next to his Father and Corin on the Great Lawn of Anvard. Lords and knights and Ladies in their brightest, gayest finery, assembled there. Cor reaching out his hand to a figure- the finely boned elegant white hand of some faceless Lady reached out to meet his. I shook my head violently, dispelling the awful vision. It was repellent, wrong! My stomach churned.

I sat down on a convenient bench in some corridor of the castle. Had I been able to take anything in with any degree of certainty I should have known where I was but I could not. It did not matter. I breathed deeply in and out, forcing myself to think.

On what grounds was I reacting so strongly? I had known for years Cor should have to marry. By all means all of the Ladies he had met had not been unpleasant. I had even liked some of them exceedingly. The news was sudden- to be sure. I acknowledged that must be part of it. I must not have been expecting Cor to make up his mind so soon- I had not had ample time to prepare myself for the change by the observance of any particular attention to any one Lady.

That implied a change. I had not thought of that. Surely, something must change by Cor's marriage. What then? Archenland would have a princess: a future queen. That was nothing to me. How would this affect me? She must take the place in the arrangement of affairs at Anvard that I had held for nigh three years, unchallenged, by the mere fact of its vacancy- if she should handle them badly that could cause some inconvenience, must cause some frustration, but it was by no means proven that she would.

No, now I had gotten it, for Cor's wife must also take her place in the royal family of Archenland. She must be the daughter to King Lune- the sister to Corin- that I had only ever pretended to be. Should that admittance cause the king and Corin to love me the less? Perhaps not, but it easily might. This was a grievous pain. But the chief of it- I blushed to think- the greatest share of the repulsion I felt by the idea of Cor marrying was what his wife must become to _him_.

She would be his partner on the throne, his constant help. She must be his chief confidante- the one person he trusted above all others. Now I understood myself. I had, for years now, occupied _these_ positions myself. Had Cor not only the night before called me his greatest friend? I must be supplanted now, by the one he married, and the idea of that was what was now causing me such distress. But just as I acknowledged this, I was forced to acknowledge that I was not _all_ to Cor that a wife would be to him, and indeed could not be, remaining as I was.

My shock and outrage cooled considerably, and now I was afraid. Should I envy Cor's wife providing the things only a wife could? That would be wicked of me- unless I were prepared- unless I was willing…I stopped myself there. That way futility and heartbreak lay in wait, especially since Cor had made his choice. Even if he had. I shut the door on the progression of my thoughts firmly. I would remain mistress of myself. I rose, recognized I was, quite by accident, in the very corridor in which Cor and Corin had their chambers. I turned to go, to head down the stairs again to my own- to work on the tapestry I had been making- perhaps it would quiet my mind.

But footsteps stopped me. "Oh, milady Aravis!" came a voice of a servant. I turned to face him.

"I was come to fetch Their Highnesses," he said. "Thomas at the gate reports that your Narnian friends have arrived: the Masters Bree and Brindee, the Madams Hwin and Faheen?"

The news was a welcome distraction. "Excellent," said I. "Thank you for telling me. I shall go down at once."

"Their Highnesses should like to go down with you, milady," he said.

I nodded distractedly. "Very well."

The servant knocked on the door of the Princes, and Corin answered it. The news was told to him, he hollered back for Cor, and the two came out.

"Oh, hullo, Aravis," said Corin. "You're up and about late. I haven't seen you all morning."

I nodded. "I woke up late," I said. "Good morning, Corin. Good morning, Cor."

I turned to lead down to the courtyard, but Corin took a few giant steps. "I say, Aravis, you don't look well. Is something wrong?"

"No," I said shortly. "I'm just a bit tired, is all."

"The Horses ought to wake you up," he said confidently. "It's great that they've come back again. It's been two months!"

"It will be good to see them," Cor said, speaking his first of the morning. He was looking at me oddly; he did not seem to buy my excuses to Corin. I looked away.

We walked down to the courtyard, and Bree and Faheen, Hwin and Brindee were waiting for us there. What's more, Hwin and Brindee had brought Hrinoo with them.

Hrinoo had been born to Hwin and Brindee at the end of last summer, and was now a little piebald filly with wide, inquisitive eyes. She had all the best of Brindee's intelligence and Hwin's sweetness, and really, it was all I could do to not give the colt an entire bag of sugar every time I saw her. She came up to me before any of the others did, dancing on her little spindly legs that seemed to be all there was of her.

"Aravis! Aravis! I saw a butterfly!" she told me in great excitement. "At least, that's what Faheen says it was. I've never seen a butterfly. Mum says it means the spring's coming. Aravis, have you seen many springs?"

I laughed, unable to help myself, despite the morning's stresses. "Eighteen, if you'll believe it. And how are you today, Hrinoo?"

She pranced about. "Excellent! Hullo, Cor! Hullo, Corin!" She went up to them, and they laughed, patting her on the nose.

"Hullo, Hrinoo," said Cor. The others were coming up now. "Hullo, Bree, Faheen."

"Hwin, Brindee! How she's grown," I told them as they came up.

For a long time there was only greeting and news- they had recently been to Cair Paravel just as Princess Lillian of Narnia turned seven. They had attended the party, and the Hrinoo was delighted because the little princess had spoken to her. Bree told Cor and Corin, on a more serious front, that the giants in the North of Narnia were rising again, and the King was going to have to get an army together to go out against them. The pass had only just cleared up- they thought they would see the spring here before heading back.

But finally, Hrinoo could bear the civilities in silence no more. She ran away to play, and Corin followed her, and Cor, Brindee and Bree followed them, and soon they were engaged in a rollicking game of Tag, though Bree insisted the three Horses be handicapped, because really, how could Cor and Corin hope to compete ("as capable as your Highnesses are, I'm sure")? Corin scowled at this, but did not actually demur, and I was left to talk to Hwin and Faheen.

"So what has been happening here at Anvard?" Faheen asked.

I shrugged. "Another troupe just left. From the Lone Islands, this time. They were here for a long time. They came two weeks after your last visit: just before the snows shut the pass. "

Hwin looked over at Cor, jumping aside and darting away from Hrinoo, who was apparently "It", while Corin stood by laughing. "Did he like any of the Ladies?"

I shifted. "I don't know. If he did, he didn't tell me." I smiled. "Corin did though: there was a Lady Rosamund with them he liked incredibly well. He ushered her about for weeks; she was quite heartbroken when they left. I suppose she'll be two months pining for him."

"Were there any that left pining for _you_?" Hwin wanted to know.

I rolled my eyes. "Unfortunately. A fellow by the name of Sir George: first cousin to the Governor. I couldn't get rid of him for two months!"

"Why were you trying?" Faheen laughed.

"You haven't seen him, or you'd know," I said. "He had this enormous mustache, and he was useless at absolutely everything except writing the soppiest songs I've ever had the misfortune to hear. It was maddening! In the end I had to be rather rude to get him to leave me alone."

Hwin let out a sigh, and Faheen reprimanded me gently. "He must've been worth something if he was in love with you, Aravis. You really should be nicer."

I snorted. "He wasn't in love with me. He never gave me a chance to put a word in edgewise so we could get properly acquainted. He thought I was tolerably pretty-wanted some distraction, and thought he could make up to King Lune or something._ I_ don't know."

"You're grown up now, Aravis," said Hwin, giving me a Horse-Kiss. "You can't run away from men forever."

"I'm not!" I protested. "I live with men! I'm surrounded by men! I've no objection to them whatever. The old Lords of Archenland are all very nice, if a bit stuffy, and the younger ones we're getting now are sweet boys. And the three I love best in the world are all men."

"Aravis, you know that's not what she meant," chuckled Faheen.

Hwin looked over at Brindee and her foal: now working together to come at Bree from two sides so Corin could dart forward and tag him. "I just want you happy," she told me. "Have you ever been in love? It's the most wonderful thing in the world."

"I've seen Tarkaans and Tarkheenas ruined for love," I said dispassionately. "Poor King Lune, too. His wife died and the shadow is only just starting to leave the court." My heart clenched in my chest and I ignored it. "_You_ two have done well enough, but pardon me if I think that's the exception."I pressed my lips together and would not open the door I had shut this morning. I would not wonder. I could not.

Faheen looked at me. "You're angry," she said. It wasn't a question.

I looked at the ground. "Things are changing," I said quietly. "But I shan't. I shall never marry."

"Never is a very long, hard word," Hwin said. "Aravis, don't say never. Not just yet."

Hrinoo darted up. "Mum, did you _see_? I tagged more quickly than _anybody_!"

"That she did," said Brindee. "Hwin, darling, would you mind? Corin asked Bree and I to ride with him later this evening."

"You'll come, Aravis, won't you?" asked Corin.

"You'll have to excuse me," said Cor suddenly. I realized he was much closer than I thought- he had been very near us when Hrinoo had ended the game. "I have matters to attend to this evening."

"I'll be there," I said.

"We shall be quite alright with Hrinoo," said Faheen. Hwin nodded, putting her head over her daughter's, trying with her teeth to get the filly's mane into some kind of order.

She protested. "Mum! I want to go, _too_!"

"Nonsense," Hwin said. "You're staying here with me. You'll see them tomorrow. We'll be here for weeks and weeks!"

"Really?" Hrinoo asked, eyes wide. She quieted at once. We all said our goodbyes. I was feeling a little better for the talk- but Cor seemed a bit out of spirits. As we walked back through the gates he said not a word. Corin was hailed by young Lord Cecil and his pretty sister Phoebe for some fun, but I left them debating the merits of an embroidery hoop over a practice sword for bashing Cecil with (Corin had agreed to show Cecil some pointers), and Cor came with me.

"You're going to the garden, I expect?" he said shortly.

"I always walk there before dinner," I said. "You know that."

"It's nearly time for dinner now," he said.

"I woke up late. I expect I shall miss; but I had a late breakfast."

We came to the garden entrance to the side of Anvard. "Will you join me?" I asked. Many mornings, if there was nothing else he had to do, he would, but this morning he looked pained.

"I broke my fast on time," he said, in the formal 'Prince voice' he never used with me. "Please, excuse me."

"Cor-" I began, seeing he was upset about something.

He bowed. "Lady Aravis." He turned and walked into the castle, leaving me confused and a little hurt. He had been perfectly fine this morning, better than I had been, but now he was plainly out of sorts. And he appeared to be out of sorts with _me_! I wondered what on earth I had done.

* * *

><p>An hour or two before sunset, after forcing myself to be useful and work on the tapestry for a time, I went to find Corin for the ride. But as I came to their door, I heard raised voices within.<p>

I backed off immediately. Corin was known to lose his temper on occasion, but Cor hardly ever shouted-even in quarrels with me he snapped and stalked off and was sulky. Shouting had never been his style. But he was shouting now. I could hear them both yelling at one another, though through the thick stone wall I could not make out what they said. The door flew open, and Corin came out.

"Fine!" he hollered back over his shoulder. "But you're only making it worse for yourself!"

He slammed the door and started down the hall. He checked when he saw me. "Aravis!" he cried. "How much did you-"he broke off.

"Nothing at all," I answered quickly. "I'd just come up. By the Mane, Corin, what's wrong?"

His cheek was red and swelling. "Don't worry," Corin said in a growl. "I didn't beat him up."

"But he hit you?"

"Obviously."

"What'd you do?" I asked. "He never-"

"What did I do?" Corin asked indignantly. "Believe it or not, Aravis, sometimes_ I'm_ the sensible one!" He touched the rapidly forming bruise on his cheekbone and winced.

"Are you _very _angry with him?" I asked.

Corin shook his head. "No. Just frustrated. He's being an enormous idiot. But don't let's speak of it. Let's go riding, shall we?"

He offered me his arm, trying to smile, but not quite managing it. I wasn't sure if it was due to the quarrel, or the pain in his face. I didn't ask. We walked down to the stable. He saddled his big black horse: Sergio the Huger- an incredibly good-tempered horse for all of his impressive name. I saddled Renetta, and the two of us went out to meet Bree and Brindee. Hwin, Faheen, and Hrinoo bade us goodbye, and we took the forest path, among the bare trees to the south of Anvard. Only a few were putting forth tiny green buds, and a wind blew through them. I was thankful for my warm cloak.

No-one spoke until we were almost a mile into the ride. Then Bree broke the silence. "So what's the bunch of thistles in your pasture, Prince Corin? I don't believe I've ever seen you hold your peace for three minutes together."

Corin's eyes darted to me, and then resumed their stare at the ground.

"He had a fight with Cor," I told the Horses.

"I had noticed that rising bruise," said Brindee. "I thought it due to practice."

"No," Corin said. "My dear twin is acting very stupidly," he said.

I frowned. "I can't imagine what's all happened since yesterday. He was acting perfectly normal in Tirravale." And since he had decreed to the nobles that they should cease seeking for him a bride and hit his brother in the face, I thought. Something must have happened.

Corin could hold his peace no longer. He burst out passionately, "The worst part is that it's almost entirely his own fault! This evening I tried to tell him how he could make it better for himself- and-well-"he gestured to his bruise.

"You've been meddling, Prince Corin," Brindee said.

Corin growled. "If I have been, it's only for his own good. It's not like things are dandy for me, either," he said, seeming to go off on a tangent. "Things are changing around here so fast."

This struck a little too close to home. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Corin bit his lip. "Father," he said. "It's different for you- but I remember how he was ten years ago. He lost a lot of strength when Mother died- but these past three years…" he trailed off. "What with the drought last year and just-he's getting old."

Bree snorted. "He's still hale enough."

"That's true, but he's failing. And everyone knows it. In another ten years—"he clamped his mouth shut, swallowed. "Cor will make a good king. Everyone knows it. Aslan knows he's a long sight better than I'd have been. But pardon me if I don't want him to be king just yet."

Had they been fighting about that? It was so nearly what Cor himself was feeling. I opened my mouth to speak, but Brindee beat me to it.

"Everything happens in its own time," he said.

"Yes, but what if the time's too short?" Corin demanded. I was confused. He seemed to be approaching one issue from several different angles. He was incredibly frustrated about something, but he had yet to come out and say it.

"Corin," I said, "What's really bothering you?"

"Same thing that's bothering everyone," he said. "Cor and this whole heir business. It has to be done; everyone knows it. But just as surely as Father…" he swallowed again. "Just as sure as Cor has to be King sometime, he's got to get married. You'll have heard. He's said he's made up his mind. But he's not saying who." He scowled. "And he got terribly angry when I asked this evening. I think as his brother I've a right to know. What if he's thinking of marrying someone ridiculous? Someone completely wrong for him?" He looked over at me. "Aslan knows there have been enough ridiculous girls around here."

"You've been on quite good terms with any number of them," I pointed out.

"Maybe so, for a week or two," he replied. "But if Cor gets married…when he gets married, I'll have to put up with _her _every time I'm home at Anvard. And she'll run the place, you know. It won't be Father's court anymore, it'll be hers, reflecting every silliness or fault she possesses. And I'll have to put up with it."

"Now really, Prince Corin," said Bree in his superior tone. "I don't really think Cor would marry anyone ridiculous."

"_I_ don't know," Corin said. "But he _might._ He won't tell me she's _not_. "

"So His Highness is on the point of marriage?" Brindee asked.

"He's at least made up his mind not to look any further than one particular Lady," I said. "Bertha told me this morning."

"I was there when he said so," Corin confirmed. "He seemed happy then, though, and now he's not." He winced. "Now he's-not exactly angry- but he's more upset than _I've_ ever seen him."

"Corin," I said, deciding to bring up part of what was bothering me. "What shall I do? What will become of me once Cor- who knows- once you yourself are married?"

Corin rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll be here, won't you? Same as you've always been." He said it so assuredly I couldn't help smiling.

"Hwin and Faheen seem to think I ought to get married," I said.

"Nonsense!" snorted Bree, tossing his mane. "What could they possibly be thinking? You're the girl who fled Calormen to avoid marriage. And you're little more than a foal!"

"I'm just a year younger than Cor and Corin," I said, a little indignant. "I turn nineteen in three months."

He whinnied in surprise. "Do you really?" He looked thoughtful. "I'm getting old," he said.

"You're not," I said. "You're still a fine figure of a Horse."

"'Course you are," said Corin.

"You're the same age as me," Brindee said quietly. "I'm young yet."

"Then so are you, Aravis," Bree said. "You must see that. You're far too young to be leaving Anvard and getting married."

"Leaving?" Corin said in alarm. "Who said anything about _leaving_? Of course she can't leave." He turned and looked at me. "Anyway, Aravis, all your suitors have been ridiculous."

"I know it," I said. "I'm not married yet, am I?"

"None of those toads could've made you happy," he said dismissively. He grinned, raising an eyebrow. "If I thought it'd make you any happier, I'd marry you myself!" he joked.

I made a face. "Corin! What a silly idea!"

He laughed, but his eyes were far off. "Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps it is a silly idea for _us _to get married." I blinked at him, unsure if I had heard the emphasis on the 'us', as if it were not a silly idea for me to marry someone else. But he said nothing more, and was again studying the ground before Sergio the Huger.

Beside Renetta, Brindee swished his tail and snorted thoughtfully.

"I know the woman who marries you at last would be one of the luckiest women in the world," I told Corin, in case I had offended him. "Mind you, I also think she'd have to be one of the craziest—"

Corin looked up and winked, and I saw I had not.

"I still don't like all this," Bree said. "All this talk of _marrying._ It seems just yesterday you both were running around and scraping your knees up in the garden! And as for the Prince Cor- it doesn't seem too long ago that _he_ was a fisherman's son named Shasta and didn't know a horse from a haystack!"

"It _wasn't_ so long ago," Corin told him. "That's why it's all so hard, Bree. I could've done with another seven years of being children with Cor and Aravis- and I know he could have, too. Father ruling, pulling pranks on the guard and the cook, giving Lord Darrin mayhem in lessons, knocking Cor down on the practice courts without fear that he'd bash me off Serge here an hour later-"he laughed, but it was a little regretful.

"Now you may still be merry and brave, but you must also be responsible, and you don't quite know how, nor how to cope with all the change that is expected of you," said Brindee in summation.

"That's just it," said Corin. "Cor doesn't, either."

I felt I could- but I didn't know how I could go about it- or even how my efforts would be received. I frowned. "If I could be of any help…"

He cut me off. "You are, Aravis. Just by being you, you're an enormous help. Surely he's told you that, or he's more of an idiot than I thought."

* * *

><p>The next morning even the smells of the awakening garden after the night's rain could not calm my spirit. Cor had come to supper the night prior- but had not said a word to Corin or myself and had gone to his own room as soon as he possibly could. The worst part was his look- he hadn't looked angry, exactly, like Corin had said. His face had just looked sort of dead. I had seen him annoyed. I had seen him angry. I had seen him so stern it frightened me. But I had never seen him as out of spirits as he had been last night. This morning I had met Corin taking my breakfast platter to the kitchens, and he'd told me it was no better.<p>

I wondered what on earth had set him off. He was in love; he was supposed to be wooing and getting married to this woman neither I nor Corin had ever heard about. That might upset the ladies he wasn't marrying. That might worry Corin and make Bree nervous. It might be driving me to distraction. But it oughtn't to be upsetting him. He ought to be the happiest he'd ever been- not going around like someone had died and he was at a funeral. He should be singing in the hallways and telling Corin and I all about her, not punching Corin and refusing even to look at me, for all his confidences not two days past.

King Lune stopped me on my way back into the castle. "Aravis, my child," he called. I curtsied, and forced myself to smile.

"Your Majesty?"

"I have been waiting for you this half hour," he said. "I know 'tis your habit to pass this way of a morning. Will you walk with an old man and lend him your ear?"

"Gladly, Your Majesty," I said, taking his arm, glad of the distraction from my own worried thoughts. He turned us about towards the garden again and led me southwards through the beds.

"I have not had a chance to speak with you since our guests departed," he said, speaking in the more informal manner he used when among only his sons or me. "Lord George, I believe, was most unhappy to take his leave."

I made a face. "I suppose he was. He will get over it soon enough, I expect."

"You were not partial to him, then?"

"The infatuation was all upon his side, Your Majesty," I told him.

He had led us to my own little rose arbor- now grey in the still chill air, but still a lovely place to sit. He gestured for me to sit. I did so, and he sat down beside me. "Milady, have you given any thought to your future?" he asked. "These five years it has been my pleasure to watch you grow into a gracious and wise young woman, but I cannot help but wonder, my dear, if you should be happy here much longer devoting yourself to an old man and his sons alone."

I wondered why everyone was so set on me being grown up and married all of a sudden. I looked at him, and shook my head. "Of course I should be happy, Your Majesty," I said. "I've no desire to leave here. I've no desire to leave you or your sons." His steady green eyes, undimmed for all his now-grey hair and increasing wrinkles, regarded me seriously.

"Have you no desire, though, Lady Aravis, for a husband and children? You have grown into a lady wise and fair. You could have your pick of handsome noblemen- indeed, couldst have had half a dozen if you chose already."

I considered his words. With Hwin and Corin, it was easy enough to declare I'd never marry, but this was King Lune. In my time in Archenland he had been as a father to me, but I remembered my own father, and a chill seemed to go through me. "Does your Majesty wish me to marry?" I asked finally. The worst part was, I thought, that if he did, I'd do it. He loved me well, and knew he wouldn't force me to marry someone dreadful, at least. The prospect of marriage at all was still horrible, though.

"You misunderstand me, dear," the good King said, comprehending me instantly and patting my hand. "I could quite selfishly keep you here at court until I died and Cor my son was king. It is only for your sake that I wonder if you might be happier wed."

I relaxed, then. My heart warmed towards the dear King again, and I sought to set his mind at ease. "Why should I be, sir? Here at your court I am appreciated. You love me and your sons are my dear friends. To attend you is no disgrace, and indeed, I know that I am as free as the very air. Truthfully, to leave you or your sons to wed away would grieve me more than to die alone after a lifetime of love and appreciation and good work done here for you and yours."

I had always spoken freely with King Lune. He invited confidence that way. Now as I spoke my words surprised me a bit. Corin had been right. I would _not_ leave. King Lune did not wish me to leave, and I found myself feeling what I spoke even more intensely than I spoke it. I should never marry. If I died alone, even if I should be forgotten by Cor and his wife, and Corin were always away- I could not leave. I recalled that story the queens of Narnia had told me long ago. The one of the young woman and her mother-in-law. I never had learned how the story ended. But mine was her choice, in all its sweetness, and in all its bitterness.

King Lune smiled, and something in his eyes sparkled in triumph. "Thank you, Aravis. Your loyalty does you great credit, and it takes a great weight from my mind. Truly, I should hate to bid you farewell. Tell me, what think you of my son Corin?"

I wondered at the change of subject, but answered, "Corin is as my own dear brother. He is merry and brave of heart, and does your Majesty great credit."

"And Cor?"

I looked down at my hands. "Cor was my first friend in Archenland," I said, "and he has grown ever dearer to me as the years have passed. You say I have grown? Then he has grown seven-fold. He was brave and good before; now I do believe he is wise." I hesitated. "Sometimes I think he is a bit more forthright than he ought to be- but he is as true a young man as I have ever seen. Even were he not your Majesty's heir, he is the one person that I should trust with the crown once you are gone."

"You speak of him with pride and affection," King Lune said, his voice unreadable. I did not see his face. I could not look at him.

"I do. For I hold him in such."

"He trusts and respects you as well," he said.

I did not raise my eyes. "He is my dearest friend," I said simply. "Sir, I think I have done something to hurt him." Now I looked at him. He frowned at me.

"Have you quarreled then?"

"No. The last time we spoke together for any length of time- two days ago upon returning from Tirravale- things were as they ever are. But since, he has been strange. Yesterday he seemed to be avoiding me, and you saw how he was at supper."

King Lune did not look troubled. In fact, though he did not smile, his eyes sparkled, and I saw again that something akin to triumph in his gaze. "I would wager you and he will make it up again, whatever the problem," he said. "No doubt it is some misunderstanding. But the day you and he quarrel and do not make it up again is the day the sun rises a black sun, dear."

I smiled, comforted by this. I resolved to speak with Cor alone the next time I could, to find out what the problem was and to make things right between us. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

He rose, groaning. "Ah, I cannot move as I once could." He extended his hand to help me to rise and began walking again with me towards Anvard. "Thank you, milady, for talking with me. In Aslan's name, the day you came to us was a blessed one!"

"But of course, Your Majesty," I grinned. "That day was the day your kingdom was saved and your eldest restored to you!"

He shook his head. "That was the day before, Madam Impertinence, blessed as well, but you have been as a crowning jewel to the glory of Archenland these last few years."

I felt my cheeks grow warm with pleasure, and said nothing. We walked in companionable silence until he arrived at the throne room. "Come, Lady Aravis," he said. "No doubt I've supplicants to attend to, and you, dear child, have better things to do than to wait attendance on an old man."

I shook my head. "Never," I told him. I stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

"Run along," he said, smiling fondly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: THIS has been a labour of love, readers (pun intended). Whereas for most of this story I have had at least three chapters ahead of what I've published nearly ready, now I am working three at once- the very three I'm trying to get out to you. I have struggled and struggled with this part of the story, and I'm still struggling with the next bit. It won't be original, of course. For one it's a fanfiction, and for two I'm not quite equal to really brilliant romance. I've been inspired by Charlotte Bronte, L.M. Montgomery, and Jane Austen all in the writing of this, and I might as well give the dear old girls credit for it. I've written half a dozen ways this next chapter could go- the third day from Tirravale (because three is both a magical and holy number, and ought to be used in storytelling whenever possible). We'll see how it turns out. I'll probably rewrite it three times at least! **

**God Bless!**

**LMSharp**


	21. What I Never Knew I Wanted

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned this story. But I don't. Consider it disclaimed.**

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><p>Chapter Twenty-One<p>

_**"I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, by the gazelles or the does of the field, that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases." –Song of Solomon 2:7 (ESV)**_

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><p>When the next morning had arrived, I still had not had a chance to speak to Cor. He'd come to supper the night prior in much the same temper as he had the night before: speaking not a word he could avoid and leaving as soon as he could, with eyes empty and expression closed. The others had noticed this time: King Lune had looked worried, and I had heard Lord Gregor remarking to Lady Phoebe as they left the Great Hall that something was wrong with His Highness.<p>

Cor was not as cheerful by disposition as his twin, but nor was he ever melancholy for more than a day running. And when he _was, _he always sought out either Corin or me to complain of it. He had not so much as looked at me now for almost three days, and now he was in with his Father taking care of some business or other, and would likely be there until mid-afternoon.

I was not easy with whatever hung between us. I was never happy when Cor and I were on the outs, and though he seemed worse than I had ever seen him, I could not for the life of me think what I had done. It would have angered me if I hadn't been so worried. He ought to be happy. He ought to be ecstatic. He ought to be waltzing through the corridors boring anyone who would listen with every detail about this mysterious woman he'd decided to woo so exclusively. What right had Cor to be miserable now, in anxious expectation of all those hopes which must be dearest to a young man of his age? His happiness must necessitate my discomfort, even my great pain, but it could not be as horrible to me as this emptiness, this silence. I resolved to see if he had told Corin anything. It might be nosy, but by now I was anxious enough not to care.

I found Corin alone in the doorway of the stables, going at a hanging sandbag furiously. His blows rang out in the quiet with resounding thuds and thwacks. His hair was starting to curl up with sweat. As I entered he gave it a great kick and stopped, panting.

"Corin?" I hazarded. He turned, and sighed heavily, sitting down on the ground.

"Hullo, Aravis," he said.

I sat down beside him, waiting for him to talk. He stared at the ground between his feet. "It's no better," he said finally. "Well, besides from the fact he hasn't hit me again. I went into his bedroom this morning to see if it was; he was just lying there, staring at the ceiling. I don't think he slept at all."

"Did he tell you what was wrong?"

Corin looked at me then. The sparkle in his gaze was gone. No smile lurked around the corner of his mouth. He seemed torn between several emotions. He opened his mouth to answer my question, but then shook his head. Instead he said, "You must speak with him, Aravis," he said. "It's no good me telling you what I guess." He stood. "I can't stand beside him on this battlefield or go in to smooth over the mess like I could when we were younger." He extended his hand and helped me up. "Talk to him." He gave me one last, urgent look, then dusted himself off and walked away.

This of course was most unsatisfactory. Cor had talked to Corin. Perhaps he had not said much, but he had said enough this morning to give Corin an idea of what was wrong. But Corin refused to relate it to me. He spoke of a battlefield and a mess, and repeated commands to me to speak with Cor. This could mean that I was correct in assuming that there was some fault I must make right with Cor, but it could simply mean that the matter upsetting him was confidential enough Corin did not feel he could speak freely of it. I was left more anxious than I had come.

I did not eat dinner, and in the afternoon I made my way out to the Great Lawn to speak with the Horses. Bree and Brindee were conversing about the upcoming Wiggle race for Mayor, just a few miles from the herd in which they lived. Faheen was showing Hrinoo upcoming flowers near the wood's edge, while Hwin lay alone looking on. I went to her immediately.

"Aravis," she said. She looked at me once, and then motioned with her head for me to sit down. I did so. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"My dear Hwin, here I am much as a little girl again, ready to burden you with tales of my troubles," I said, laughing a little at her greeting.

"I'm here, ready to listen," she said.

"I don't know exactly where to begin," I told her. "It's just-everything seems to be wrong, but I could not for the life of me say exactly what evils oppress me." I shook my head to emphasize my confusion. "You recall what we were talking of two days ago: of the convoys of Knights and Ladies come to Anvard to pay tribute to King Lune?"

"I remember," she said calmly.

"The morning we talked last, I received news that they were to stop. Cor had determined that he could no longer entertain all the Ladies who sought to marry him, for he had decided to pursue a single Lady for his bride."

Hwin's tail flicked. "Brindee told us that Cor seemed to be on the point of marriage that evening. Do you know the Lady?"

I shook my head. "No. That's one of the upsetting things about it, Hwin. I never saw him like any one girl better than anyone else. He never _mentioned_ anyone. He's not engaged- just committed to his purpose- but he hasn't told anyone what that purpose is. Not even me or Corin. But that very morning, he seemed to get very upset. He hasn't spoken to hardly anyone. He punched Corin when he asked him about it. He won't even look at me, Hwin. He's not acting like he's in love. He's acting like someone has _died_."

"When did this happen?" Hwin asked. "When did he start acting so strangely?"

I shrugged helplessly. "The first time I noticed it was directly after we left here that morning. He was fine-for all he was making life-changing announcements to the council- but then he wasn't. And he hasn't been since."

Hwin's tail flicked again, and she shifted. "Have you talked to Corin?" she asked. "Cor might have told him what's wrong."

I snorted. "If he did, Corin isn't telling me. All Corin told me when I asked him was that I needed to talk to Cor myself. But Hwin, I didn't realise how hard it was to get hold of the Crown Prince of Archenland until these last few days when it seems he has to be doing everything but talking to me."

"Oh, Aravis," Hwin sighed. She seemed about to tell me something when Hrinoo came over, followed by Faheen. Hrinoo gave a deep sigh and plopped down next to her mother.

"I'm tired," she announced. "Hullo, Aravis."

"She's been playing all morning," Faheen said. "She tried to chase a hare earlier into the thicket, silly thing."

"I just wanted to say good morning," Hrinoo protested.

"It wasn't a Talking Hare, dear," Hwin said. "It was too small."

I sighed. I had wanted to hear what Hwin had to say. But Hrinoo was sweet. I leaned forward and patted her on the nose. She butted her head against my hand fondly. "Mum, can you tell a story?" she asked. "Tell about the race from Calormen, please?"

"You've heard it dozens of times," Hwin said.

"Oh, but it never gets old, my dear Madam," said Bree. He and Brindee were coming over and he had heard. "The tale of our escape to freedom is far better than tales of war with dumb horses in the Tisroc's army." He sat down beside Faheen. "I'll tell it, if your mother won't, Hrinoo."

The foal's ears twitched back. "I want mummy to tell it," she informed Bree. "You always say much too much about Aravis cutting your tails, and Shasta's- Prince Cor's- falls, and not near enough about the desert, and the river, and Tashbaan."

Bree looked a bit affronted, but Brindee laughed, and Hwin's eyes sparkled. "Very well, darling," she said. And she told the tale of how Bree had met Shasta and run away from their master and how she had saved me from the awful, ugly Ahoshta Tarkaan and promised to take me to Narnia. She told how Aslan himself had seen to it that the four of us met up, and told again of how big and scary Tashbaan had been. Hrinoo laughed again at how Shasta had been mistaken for Prince Corin, and how Corin had really been getting into fights all over the city. She explained how Lasaraleen, though silly and vain, had still been a very good and brave friend to me- sneaking me out of the city even after we'd heard a terrible plot to invade Archenland and Narnia and feared for our lives. She told of the arduous trek across the desert, ("I hope you never have to go through such a journey, my darling,"), and that blessed moment when we'd finally reached the river. She told how Aslan again had made sure we would reach the King in time. I had been wounded, she said, but brave young Shasta had reached King Lune and gone on to warn Narnia of the threat, and been discovered for Prince Cor at last.

It really was a wonderful story, I thought. It sounded so much more exciting than it had actually been, without all the quarrelling and the sleeping on the ground and giggling Lasaraleen put in. I supposed adventures were like that. All uncomfortable and worrisome while you were in the middle of them, yet then you almost wished you were on them again afterwards, they made such good tales.

"And you and Bree came to Narnia and met Daddy and Faheen," Hrinoo said. "And you and Daddy had me. And the Kings and Queens in that story left and now we have King Peridan and Queen Faye and Prince Kale and Princess Lillian. But still the story doesn't seem like it's finished."

"It's not, little one," said Brindee. "Your mother's story- and everyone's story, goes on and on and on forever. Her story includes me and you now. And you'll have your own adventures to tell stories about."

Hrinoo yawned. "I guess I will, but I want to know what'll happen to you, Aravis," she said sleepily. "Shasta became Prince Cor and found King Lune and Prince Corin. What happened to you?"

"I'm free," I said.

Hrinoo's eyes began to close. "In all the other stories mum and daddy tell me the princess always..." her words faded off into an unintelligible mumble. She was asleep.

I looked at the sky. It was orange. The mountains covered the valley with shadow. I shivered. "They'll be serving supper soon. I'd best go inside."

Hwin nodded. "Come back tomorrow," she said. "And when you do, tell me you've worked it all out, please."

I smiled tightly. "I hope I will have, Hwin. Goodbye. See you tomorrow, Brindee, Bree, Faheen."

That night, Cor came in with the King to supper, and he looked different. He did not look happy, but nor did he look empty or angry or pained. When he saw me regarding him, he did not look away, but nodded once in greeting.

He was no longer avoiding me, then. I resolved to find him and speak to him immediately after the meal. He was quiet during supper, but the quality of his silence was again different from that he had displayed the past two days. King Lune no longer looked troubled in the least, as he did last night. I realised they must have spoken about whatever was bothering Cor, and as a result Cor was feeling a bit better. I responded when comments were addressed to me at supper, but I was not able to hold any proper conversations. Three days of silence was more than enough with no explanation. If we had quarreled that would have been one thing. But we had not.

I waited for him outside the Great Hall. He came to meet me at once upon exiting.

"We need to talk," I told him.

"We do," he agreed. "But let's go to your sitting room, if you don't mind. I'd rather not be overheard."

I was a bit surprised by this, but led the way without demur. He did not speak on the way, and when we arrived, he gestured for me to precede him into my room. I went in, and he closed the door after he came in.

He faced me, and I spoke. "Well?" I asked. "Are you going to explain why you've been behaving so oddly these three days?"

Every muscle in Cor's body seemed tense. His jaw worked, and he seemed uncertain, now that it came to the point, whether he wanted to explain himself or run away. "Aravis…" he started.

"I just want to know if I've done anything, Cor," I said. "If you're going to go around punching your brother and not even looking at me, I would like to be told why."

"I talked to my Father…" he began,

"And I know things are strange with you getting ready to get married to some Lady, but surely we can still be friends," I said, unable to stop.

"Aravis," he said, loudly this time. "Shut up a moment, will you?"

I blinked. He sighed. "That's not what I meant. I don't want to quarrel. I'm not exactly angry with you at all. But if you want me to explain anything you have to give me a chance to work out what I want to say."

I shut my mouth firmly. He looked at me for a moment, as if to see if I had anything further to say. When I did not speak, he nodded once. "Right. So. I heard you talking to Hwin and Faheen the other day," he said.

"What?" I said.

"When they came the morning after Tirravale, after the meeting. I had run near you three during the game of Tag, and I heard you say…" he hesitated. "I heard you say you'd never get married."

I stared at him. "Cor, what does that have to do with—"

"Everything," he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "Just…just let me get it out, all right?"

I stood still in the middle of my sitting room, completely bewildered. I did not know at all where he was going. But something was happening. Cor seemed to collect himself. He brought his gaze up to me. "Let's sit down," he said.

We did so, I on the sofa and he on the chair opposite. He leaned forward towards me. "I've been with my Father all day," he said, seemingly now on a completely different topic. "And he told me something about that- about you not marrying, that is. A conversation you had yesterday with him. And what he said was interesting enough to make me think that I might have possibly misunderstood what you said to Hwin and Faheen. I decided I had to hear it again from you directly."

He seemed sure of himself now, though he still looked a little afraid. In contrast, I was far more uncertain than I had been when we'd entered the room. I did not know what I had expected him to say, but he was saying something entirely different. He seemed to think it necessary now for me to explain things instead. But his face was not empty, and his eyes were fixed on mine. "What do you want to know?" I asked.

"You aren't getting married because you won't leave Anvard." He stated. "Is this true?"

"It is," I said. He gave a short little nod.

"Aravis," he said. "You need to tell me right now why you won't leave Anvard." His voice was urgent, pressing. His eyes bored into mine, and I shifted, unnerved.

"It's my home," I answered. I knew it wasn't adequate.

"Lots of women find new homes when they marry," he said. "That won't do."

I moved away a bit. "I can't leave," I muttered. "King Lune and Corin and you…"

"Would still be your friends if you married," he interrupted.

"I _can't_," I repeated.

Cor held my gaze. "That's different from won't, Aravis," he told me. "You had said that you would not- now you tell me you cannot leave Anvard and marry."

I began to shake. He was all but taking a battering ram to the door I had closed and locked in my mind after Bertha had broken the news of his commitment to the Lady he intended to marry. What held me to Anvard? "But there's more than that," Cor continued, cutting me off even if I should have liked to say something. "There are Lords and Knights here at Anvard, some not too much older or younger than you. Just not wanting to leave is no reason why you should say to Hwin and Faheen you won't marry. You could marry one of them."

I sprang up, turned away. "No, I couldn't!" I cried. "Cor, stop it. It doesn't have anything to do with why you've been acting so oddly anyway!"

"It does," he insisted. And there he was in front of me again, still looking at me, pinning me down with that persistent stare, giving me no alternative but to speak. "Why can't you marry?" he asked, voice soft, but no less demanding.

I shook my head helplessly. "Cor, I just can't," I said lowly, passionately. "It'd be like-like breaking a vow. I couldn't leave here-"I wouldn't look at him. "I can't marry _anyone_ anymore than I can fly or stop myself from breathing." Then the barrier was down, and a tear was running down my face. "I didn't realize until the day after Tirravale." I shook my head again, violently. "I don't care," I said. "I don't _care _what you do-however awful who you want to marry now is-however _wonderful _she is…" I cut off. That thought burned my throat and threatened to choke. I forced the words out. "Even after you're King, Corin's always is being sent here and there, and I'm forgotten, I'll stay." I smiled to hold back a sob. "How could I go?" I turned away again. My words faded off into a whisper as the last of it came out. "How could I leave you?"

Then I turned to him, suddenly angry. "There. I've said it. Are you happy now?" I despised myself for being so open. I hated all the futility and weakness my words displayed. I hated my tears and how I hadn't even been able to speak, when he made me, with any degree of coherency. The whole thing had come out like one of the avalanches in the mountains.

Cor swallowed, and I looked away again, desperately wishing he'd leave. But instead he kept looking at me. I felt his eyes on my face. "Aravis," he said, and his voice wavered a bit. "Answer me. Do you love me?"

Miserable, I gave one little nod. Cor's hand stole into mine then, and the other came to turn my head with a calloused palm: gently, but unrelenting. He made me look at him. "Aravis," he said. "Do you remember the night we met? Aslan roaring on either side of us until we met and had to talk to one another and join up?"

I wondered what he was talking of when I'd just revealed how hopeless my situation was, when I'd just admitted out loud what I had been trying not to think for-perhaps months. But I replied anyway, "Yes."

"What if it wasn't just so we could save Archenland?" he asked. My heart, burdened with the weight of the things I could not unsay now, began to beat more quickly to something in his tone. He went on. "I realised something the other day," he told me. "You said I would have to find something that would make me stay me. I said _you_ made me feel that way- more than anything else. And I started thinking. I realised that there's only one woman in the world I can talk to- trust with anything, row with and make up with and be better friends than ever with. I realised there was only one person I ever wanted to rule the country with, and I decided there was no use trying to feel that way about anyone else." His thumb caressed my cheek. "So, yes, the morning after Tirravale I told the council so. I was already in love. I have been- oh, I don't know how long. Years, at least." He smiled at me warmly. "And you'd _know_, Aravis, if it was anyone else, because we both know that _you're _the person I tell everything and trust with anything- that _you're_ the one that always makes me feel myself."

"You love _me_?" I said, my voice barely audible. I scarcely believed it. The world was toppling. I stood on the edge of a cliff and the ground was falling away. But before me there was joy: a field of it, a world of it; a feeling bigger than the sky was opening up. I couldn't hold it. I'd never thought that it could possibly be _me_.

"When I heard you tell Hwin and Faheen that you had no intention of marrying I was just about done for," he explained, "I didn't know what to do. When Corin asked about it…" he looked slightly uncomfortable. "I'm afraid I lost my temper. But when Father told me what you'd told him when he'd asked you about it I started wondering. From what he said it didn't sound like you had anything against marriage in general. It sounded like you already had some sort of attachment to us-Father, Corin, and I. I thought I could work with that, at least. _Yes_, I'm _incredibly_ happy that it comes down to me, really. Just imagine my relief." He smiled.

I gave a short, incredulous laugh. "I imagine it's something like I'm feeling now," I said. "I'd been going mad these past few days after Bertha told me about what you'd said to the Council. It's me?"

"It's always been you."

"Me, too- "I said in a happy daze, "I mean, you, too. I hadn't dared to think or hope of it, Cor. I stopped myself. I didn't even let myself think that I wanted to—"I broke off, too happy to speak.

"I love you, Aravis," he said firmly, as if to remove all doubts. He took his hand from my cheek and grabbed my other hand.

"But this- this changes everything!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," he agreed, fighting a smile playing at his lips. "And I really think there's only one thing to do." Retaining my hands, he knelt down before me. "Aravis, can I implore you to forego your resolution never to marry, and induce you to make an exception, in _my _favour? Will you marry me?"

I laughed aloud, answering in like kind. "I confess you have beaten me. I must make a liar of myself. Hwin told me not to say _never. _Of course I'll marry _you. _Indeed, no one will be able to stop me, now." I did not know how we had progressed from misery to such utter joy. Everything was very strange, but I was so full, so happy.

He leapt up at once and let out a whoop. I laughed in astonishment, and his eyes were blazing. In a moment he was back, lifting me up off of my feet for joy. He set me down and kissed me on the forehead. "Good," he said, keeping his hands round my waist. The one word was simple, but for the first time, I could make out the chords I had so often heard underneath the music of his voice. Chords of love, chords of joy. They rang out clear as bells now, and I wondered how I could ever have missed them.

I hugged him tightly and he held me. "I'd been so afraid of change," I murmured. "Everything is different- but it's all so wonderful now."

I felt him shake his head above me. "You're going to marry me," he said in all the amazement I felt. "We're going to be married."

He took a step back, apparently wanting to see me. He looked me in the eyes, seemingly hesitant. His gaze flickered down to my lips for a moment, and I began trembling again. Cor had always been attractive- but now I knew I loved him…"May I?" he whispered.

My stomach turned over in a pleasant sort of way. Involuntarily, I leaned towards him. I wanted to let him kiss me- I really did. But- With a pang in my heart, I shook my head and stepped back. "Not yet," I said, before I changed my mind.

He nodded. He looked disappointed, but accepting. "You're right," he said. He looked over at the closed door, and walked over to it. "Better open this, too," he said, doing so, and then coming back.

We both knew what was at stake here. If I were to marry Cor, my chastity could not be compromised, even by him, even in a moment of joy and discovery like this one. I imagined that to certain stuffy nobles of Archenland, even now this marriage would be a hard sell. In every way my character must be above reproach.

I sighed, reaching out for his hand. He took it, and we sat down again across from one another. "Soon," I said.

He nodded. "There's so much to be done still," he said.

"We'll have to tell your Father first," I said.

"And then Corin."

I laughed. "Oh, can you wait until we tell the Horses?"

Cor's eyes danced in anticipation. "Bree's face!" he said. "It ought to be a sight!" He laughed, his own, dear, musical laugh. The one sound I loved best in all the world.

I told him as much. He couldn't speak for a moment. "It's like the freshness of the morning I first met Aslan," he said when he could. "He knew, you know. It _wasn't_ just so you could overhear Rabadash and help me save Archenland when he brought us together."

"You always say Aslan is at the back of all the stories. Is it so surprising he's at the back of ours?"

"No," he said, "But only think of it! Every stupid quarrel we had, every song and ride, it all was leading up to this, Aravis. I was like you, you know. I didn't know until just three days ago that I was in love with you. I started thinking, like you, that I couldn't ever envision ruling Archenland with someone else, or being married to someone else, or…" he reddened slightly and looked down. "Or having children with someone else." My heart flipped over again. I hadn't thought of that. What a delightful thought, though! He looked back up at me. "But I can't remember a time that it wasn't like that," he said, squeezing my hand. "Now that I know that I love you- I can't remember a time when I didn't."

"I remember _that _clearly enough," I said. "Though it's a shame that I do. Back when I was such a little prissy, spoilt Tarkheena." I shook my head. "I didn't deserve you."

"Well, I didn't love you _then_," Cor admitted, "But I didn't hate you, either. You were my best friend, even then."

"I was your only friend," I objected. Then I sighed. "But you were my only friend, too. And you're right- we must've loved each other for a very long time. It's been years, I think."

"We must've been asleep," he said, "And now we've come awake. It's like I looked at you and saw all you are for the first time, and," his voice grew soft. "It's the most incredible thing I've ever seen."

"You're what I never knew I wanted-or wouldn't let myself know that I wanted," I told him in the same tone. "But I wanted you more than anything, all the same."

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><p><strong>AN: So I ended up with this, and I hope I handled it suitably well. I find friendship much easier to write than good romance, but I hope I at least got a smile out of you- and not at how bad or cheesy it was. But EVEN if that WAS why you were smiling- EVEN if you were absolutely DISGUSTED, leave a review and tell me, so that in the future I will not attempt what I cannot handle, or will at least be able to improve my skills. Oh, and the story's not quite over. There's the wedding yet, and before then, Aravis has some loose ends still to tie up! Stay with me! :)**

**God Bless!**

**LMSharp**


	22. Bree, Completely Surprised Alone

**Disclaimer: Narnia does not exist in my closet, nor did my pen bring it to life. You can't stop me from wishing that was the case, though.**

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><p>Chapter Twenty-Two<p>

The next day, it was surprising how easily it all went. We went to King Lune first thing in the morning. He was coming from making the rounds of the kennels, just as he had been the day I first met him. Cor went ahead of me to meet him. "Father," he said.

King Lune looked up. I could not see Cor's face, but as I drew closer the King must have seen something in it, for he looked to me. His eyes sparkled. "Thy face is no longer darksome, Cor. Shall I be right to assume thee and the Lady art come to an understanding?"

"Of the very best kind, Father," Cor said. "Oh, it is all come out so much better than I hoped. Father, I ask your blessing. I had told you I sought the love of the Lady Aravis. I have it. She has told me so, and we should like your blessing to marry."

King Lune broke out into the biggest smile I had ever seen on his smiling face, which was to say a good deal. "My son!" he cried, striding forth and kissing Cor on both cheeks. "Couldst ask me for naught I would grant with such pleasure!" He came to me and took both my hands and brought them up to kiss them.

"I had hoped, my dear, dear Aravis- I had hoped when last we talked that you loved my son. What joy it shall give me to call you daughter!"

I could not help but beaming near as wide as the King himself. "And I to call you Father, your Majesty. To tell the truth, I am caught completely by surprise by how total is my sudden happiness!"

He promised that we should be married, and married soon, no matter what the nobles at Council the following day said. Cor could not do better, he declared to my pleasure, and Archenland should have in me a most gracious princess, and someday an excellent queen. It was really too much. My heart swelled within me until I felt it would burst. He spoke with energy of all that must be done, and then decided he would go directly to begin to see to it. He handed me to Cor again, and told him,

"One day soon, shall I give her hand again to thee, Cor, on a day even happier than this!" Cor simply beamed.

Immediately after this we sought out Corin. We both knew he'd be simply furious with us if he found out any other way than from us, as nearly the first person we told. We found him just returning from a visit with the Horses, looking drawn and weary and worried.

We stopped him. He looked a little better immediately upon seeing us together, and when we had led him to a place where we could all talk together without being overheard and made the news known to him, he listened quite silently until we had finished. After we had done, for a long moment he simply stared at the both of us. Then he let out a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. He came forward at once and embraced his brother, with feeling. "Thank the Lion," he said when he could finally speak. He seemed quite overwhelmed. He looked at Cor. "For the past few days you've had me thinking that you were actually as stupid as you look."

"You're twins," I objected. "He looks like you." Though in point of fact Cor was still graver of face, and (as I was obliged now to think) much handsomer than his brother.

"He does not," Corin retorted. "He looks much stupider. But fortunately, he's not." He came forward and hugged me quickly and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank the Lion," he repeated.

Cor regarded Corin for a moment. "I wondered why you had been miserable, too, these past few days Aravis and I were misunderstanding one another. I had figured that you couldn't possibly understand. But you did, didn't you, brother? You've been pulling for us a long time, then?"

Corin gave a shaky laugh. "I've known you two should get together since the whole Terebinthia debacle," he said. "It's been driving me mad to see you both turning your heads away from every pretty girl-every handsome young idiot, in your case, Aravis- that comes to call, and not once thinking to turn them to one another. When you said you'd made up your mind, Cor, and wouldn't tell me about it, and then you two weren't even speaking?" He shook his head. "By the Mane, I am absolutely over the moon you two have finally got everything through your thick heads and settled, you bet your life."

I smiled. "For my part, Corin, liberally do I confess you ever-so-much cleverer than _me_. But I must protest you applying such terms as _stupid_ and _thick-headed_ to Cor. After all, he did figure it all out before I did. And as his fiancé, I cannot really allow anyone to insult him."

Cor looked indignant. "You insult me more than anyone else combined!" he said.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, that is to be a confirmed privilege of mine," I told him. "But only in private."

"Is in front of Corin in private?" he asked.

"It depends on how I'm feeling that day," I said.

"Aravis!"

"I'm being generous," I said, shaking a stern finger at him.

He held up his hands in mock-surrender.

Corin had been watching the exchange. "Of course you get to insult him whenever you like, but I demand the right to be allowed to insult my blockheaded brother whenever I choose," he said now. "He's my brother!"

"He will be my husband," I retorted.

"Brother trumps wife!"

I looked at him down my nose, keeping my face steady with some effort, attempting to let him know just how in error he was. He looked back stubbornly. Cor let out an exaggerated groan. "I must apologize, Aravis," he said. "In marrying you I fear I inflict you with a worthless brother."

"I must apologize, Aravis," said Corin, mimicking his tone. "You have to marry this oaf to get me as a brother."

I laughed, unable to sustain the faux-hostilities. I turned my head and kissed Cor's cheek, and extended my hand to Corin. "I shall be glad to call you brother without regretting marrying Cor in the least, if such a state of affairs is even possible."

"Absolutely not," said Corin with a smile.

"To even consider the notion proves you absolutely crazy," agreed Cor.

"You couldn't do better than him, Aravis," said Corin seriously. "You'll make a fantastic queen. Bet you'll order me around three times as much as you do already."

"You know it," I told him.

He clapped Cor on the shoulder. "You don't deserve her, brother."

"I know I don't," Cor said, looking at me in admiration. Such a disclaimer could not be borne with.

I rounded on him. "Shut up. I was serious about my duties as your fiancé and future wife. It's my job to abuse you to your face and in private and let no one else ever say a harsh word about you. Even you. So there."

"But I don't—"

I interrupted him. "If you don't deserve me then no one can, for I will not have anyone else. I have given you my respect, my love, and my pledge to marry you- shall you make my judgment into nothing?" I was more than half-serious now. All the advantage of our union was on my side. Incomprehensibly, Cor loved me, despite my quarrelsomeness, my pride, my downright obtuseness. His goodness must make me into the most blessed of women, and I could not suffer him to devalue it.

Cor's eyes blazed out again. He brought my hand up and kissed it. "Never," he said. "But I can be grateful, and I am."

Corin groaned. "I never thought of this," he told the nearby wall. "I never thought that there could be anything more maddening than their steadfast stupidity to the reality of the situation. But now? Now they're going to be nauseating, aren't they?"

Cor's eyes danced, and I simply nodded.

When we went to tell the Horses that evening, it was with some anticipation. I had told Cor of Bree's resistance to the idea that we were grown, and we were expecting some fun out of the revelation.

Hrinoo came prancing up to meet us, but when she was within five feet she stopped. She sniffed the air, came closer. She sniffed me. She sniffed Cor. She sniffed me again, and then snorted into my hair. She backed up, eyeing us reproachfully. "You smell different," she accused. Hwin had got to us then, and she turned to look at her mother. "Mum, they smell different," she reported.

Hwin took in our joined hands. Delicately, she came up to us and sniffed once. She looked at me. "You did work things out then. It's not _never_ after all, is it Aravis?" she said, ever-so-slightly teasing. I felt myself blushing.

"I have been obliged to make myself into a liar," I said.

"What's this?" asked Bree, the third up.

"They smell different," Hrinoo piped up again. Brindee and Faheen came up behind their respective spouses.

Faheen looked at our hands, looked at Hwin, "Are they really?"

"It seems so," she said.

"Are you?" asked Faheen.

Cor rubbed the back of his head. "Yes," he said. "Aravis has agreed that it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to marry me."

I snorted. "Stop it. I don't have anything against marriage."

"Just marriage to anyone but me," he teased.

"You're exactly the same way," I accused.

"'Course I am."

"Now wait just a moment!" Bree said, looking at his wife. "Are they?" He looked back at us in complete amazement. "Cor, Aravis, do you mean to tell me that the two of you are engaged to be _married_?"

"That's right, Bree," said Cor easily, keeping his face straight admirably.

I could not help a smirk. "What's that you say, young one?" Bree asked Hrinoo faintly. "They smell different?" He trotted forward and sniffed as Hrinoo and her mother had done. His ears went slightly back, his tail lashed, and he stamped his back foot. He stared at us.

"Hwin, what's this smell you're all talking about?" I asked.

"You smell like you're together," she said placidly. "I've been checking for it every time I've seen the pair of you for the past three years."

"My dear Madam!" Bree exclaimed. "You knew of this?"

Hrinoo was deep in a whispered conversation with her father. He seemed to be explaining something or other to her. Hwin flicked her ears and swished her tail and ignored Bree.

"Why wasn't I told of this?" Bree demanded.

"Bree," I laughed, "We've only just worked it all out ourselves. After the King and Corin, you're the first we've told!"

He snorted. "You two are always quarrelling," he objected. "I've seen it half a dozen times in these past six months in our little visits alone."

"Yes, but it never lasts, Bree dear," said Faheen. "You've seen them make it up half a dozen times too. And we argue sometimes, you must admit." She came forward. "I apologize for my husband's rudeness," she said. "Congratulations, Your Highness, milady. Pray, when is the wedding?"

"We don't exactly know yet," I admitted awkwardly. "There's so very much to do, and we've only just begun working it all out."

"And don't worry about Bree's rudeness," Cor said. "That's just Bree. He's just mad he didn't tell me to marry Aravis himself. Come on, Bree, I'll explain things to you."

Bree snorted. "As if I needed it—"But he went with Cor all the same to a corner of the passage where they sat down to talk.

Hrinoo came up then. "Daddy explained to me why you aren't married yet," she said to me. "It's very different from how we do things in the herd. Congratulations, Aravis! I do hope we can stay for the wedding. I've never seen a human wedding before- Daddy says it's quite exciting, and that there'll be cake! I _love_ cake. Weddings at home aren't at all interesting. Mum, may we stay for Cor and Aravis' wedding?"

"Of course we're staying, darling," Hwin said, laughing a little. "I'd never forgive myself if we missed it. But really, Aravis, you will have to come every day to ride with us, or we shall get quite fat on your Archenland spring grass."

I smiled at her. "I'll run away if I have to," I told her. "I suppose all the preparations to marry Cor will be quite dull indeed. You'll have to tell me about those Horse weddings, Master Brindee. I never liked much fuss, and from what King Lune was saying there's going to be an awful lot of it."

He snorted. "I should say so. The wedding of a future king and queen must be grand! But that's not the main thing, Lady Aravis. The main thing is that you and the Prince are getting married to one another. I'm very happy for you. I'd hoped that you would."

I smiled. "Everyone seems to have known I ought to marry Cor but me!" I said. "How did they ever know?"

Hrinoo neighed a little laugh. "It finished the story, right, Aravis," she said, as if I were very silly. "I told you yesterday I wanted to know what would happen to you, didn't I? All the other stories end with the prince and princess getting married!"

"Don't be silly, Hrinoo," said Hwin. "Aravis and Cor are real people, not characters in a story. But Aravis, it was easy enough to know you were going to marry him. I know _you,_ you see. You never do anything by halves. When you fled your father, you fled the entire country. When you fled the country, you helped save its enemy. And when I saw you decide to be friends with Cor, to join his family and live at Anvard, it was obvious enough that you would never leave him. It's not in you. So you'd eventually fall in love and get married. And as for him-"she laughed a little. "The boy's always thought the sun and moon revolved around you. It only remained for_ him_ to figure out what that meant."

I smiled ruefully. "He's really too good," I said.

"Maybe," Faheen said, eyes sparkling. "But don't complain. If our husbands didn't think us far better than we thought ourselves where would we be?" She looked over at Bree fondly, who was shaking his head at something Cor was telling him.

"Females are far more spectacular creatures than they give themselves credit for," Brindee said. "Now little Hrinoo, you know you're fabulous, don't you?"

"Of course," she snorted derisively.

I went to her and gave her a hug.

In the end, Cor was able to explain to Bree how it all had come about, and by the time an hour had gone by, he was insisting nothing could be more sensible than for the two of us to wed; indeed, he'd known and wished for it all along! And if the words weren't really true, they were very kindly and lovingly spoken.

To my surprise, we did not have near as much trouble with the Lords of Archenland as I had supposed. King Lune and Corin did not have to press them at all. The younger members of the council accepted us at once, rather happier now that Cor was not to be marrying their sisters and sweethearts at Anvard. The King's closest friends, too, the men who had taught us growing up, greeted the news of our approaching union with joy. Only a few of the more conservative Lords were a bit wary, and not those that I had expected. These were the ones that had hoped to forward a more profitable alliance, and not those that had issues with Calormen. I was seen as a true Lady of Archenland, one undoubtedly loyal to the royal family, and one that had proven through great sacrifice to have the best interests of Archenland at heart. Even those that weren't exactly happy with Cor's betrothal to me accepted it without a fuss.

It was determined that we were to be married on the first day of summer, a fortnight after my nineteenth birthday. There was much to be done. For one, there were new apartments at Anvard to be opened, cleaned, and made ready for Cor and I- those for the crown prince and princess, unused since Lune had become king nearly twenty-five years ago. There were new gowns to be ordered for me in the different style of the married women of Archenland. There were family jewels to be brought and resized to fit me.

There were invitations and notices to be sent to all manner of dignitaries across the world. The King and Queen of Narnia were coming with their children, and the Lords, Ladies, and Knights of Archenland, and ambassadors from Terebinthia and Telmar (though we weren't certain if those from the Lone Islands and Galma would make it in time, they would be represented by the Narnians). Cor particularly requested the three dwarves on the border of Narnia to attend- I sent out particular invites to Gia, her father, and Madam Ingrid. To Tashbaan King Lune sent a notice, but not an invite. Though Archenland was not at war with Calormen, relations had been strained ever since we sent the Crown Prince back an Ass six years prior.

I was a little sad about that. I was a Lady of Archenland now, happy to be so, but it seemed hard that I should be the only representative of the land that brought both Cor and I up, however roughly. But I couldn't dwell on it, because there were other things to do.

To my chagrin, I was made to realise that I was now expected to take part not only in the arrangement of the castle household, but also in the meetings of state. Corin and Cor laughed at me for three days when they discovered I would have to attend the meetings I'd always chastised them for complaining of.

And then there was time to be spent each day talking to the Lady Thelma, Hwin, or Faheen about what it meant to be a wife. I rode with all of the Horses nearly every day. Best of all, though, were the hours walking with Cor hand in hand, talking of all we could do now, and what we loved about one another. As each word of love was spoken the ties we had to one another grew stronger. It all should have been appallingly soppy, but when it was just the two of us I forgot all of that in smiles and anticipation.

So the time passed until three days before the wedding. I was walking with Cor in some of those stolen hours when a guard came to me. "Sir, Lady, there's a group of people at the gate. Ambassadors. They're from Calormen."

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><p><strong>AN: So this chapter exists principally because I didn't want to dilute the last with it or lengthen the next. It's principally filler- but I hope you find it pleasant filler. I AM sorry to leave you hanging just when the first Calormenes Aravis has seen for years arrive at Anvard, especially considering I have not more than ideas of how the next chapter is to go. I'm afraid that unless I'm particularly industrious, you're in for a wait of more than a day and a half- and the second essay season of the semester is upon me here at school. I shall be obliged to do much less pleasant writing alongside this, and this must slow me down. But I'll try to get the last two chapters (or plot-points, they might stretch; things in this story tend to do that) out to you as soon as possible. Leave a review!**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	23. The Consequences Finally Catch Up

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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><p>Chapter Twenty-Three<p>

"Calormen?" Cor asked. "We've had no message expecting anyone. What do you think, Aravis? Shall we go see what they want?"

I was quite as bewildered as Cor. "Perhaps they finally mean to reestablish good relations? We should go greet them."

He shrugged a bit regretfully, looking back at the walk we had been on. The flowers were all in full bloom now, and we had been counting on another half hour to enjoy each other's company. He offered his arm to me, though, and we made our way to the gate, where the party was being ushered in. It was small by necessity; they would have had to go through the desert, of course. They were seven total, and I judged at least four of them to be servants. I was highly gratified they had not seen fit to bring slaves along to Archenland: it would have sunk their cause very much with the King on whatever their errand might be. They bore several trunks on their horses. Some of them looked to be luggage, but others seemed to be gifts. Their errand then, was peaceful.

Cor and I looked to Thomas, on duty at the gate, for information. "An ambassador from the new Tisroc, Your Highness, milady," he informed us, "She says they are sent here to extend the hand of peace. The spokesperson is a young woman, by name of Lasaraleen Tarkheena. She says she knows you, milady."

I started. "Las?" I asked.

The best-dressed woman of the party stepped forward. I blinked, and looked again. Indeed, it was Lasaraleen. Six years older now- she was still very young. I rapidly did the calculations in my head and figured she ought to be turning twenty-one at the end of the summer, but she wore the widow's veil. Her husband had died, then. I remembered he had been rather old, and fond of good food. I wondered what had happened. And she looked different! She was taller, her face had more of beauty but less consciousness of it in it- altogether I liked the look of her better.

"Tarkheena- Lasaraleen-"I said. "Welcome to Anvard."

She looked at me very hard for a moment, then dashed forward and hugged me tightly. "Aravis," she said. "I wasn't sure I should find you, though I very much hoped that I would. And now you're here- the very first place I come!" She stood back a little, still gripping me by the shoulders. "Let me look at you, darling. You've gotten taller, and positively pretty, I declare, though I don't much care for your dress. I brought some that will suit you ever so much better- but I'm forgetting myself. We can talk later. We shall talk later- and-"she looked behind her apprehensively. "We ought to go in."

"Oh, of course," I said. "At once. You'll want to clean up, of course, before you see the King. Are _you _the ambassador, Las?"

She laughed a little, similar, but not the same as her old giggle. "Yes, darling, I never thought in the old days that I should be one, but here I am, nevertheless. It's rather a long story; I'll tell you all about it later, and you'll have to tell me all about what you've been doing here in Archenland. But please, darling, introduce me to your friend."

"I must confess, Aravis, I'm quite eager to meet this Tarkheena Lasaraleen myself," said Cor.

I felt myself colour. "Cor- this is Lasaraleen Tarkheena. You might remember- she's the one that helped me out of Tashbaan all those years ago. Las- this is Prince Cor of Archenland, eldest son to King Lune. He's my fiancé."

Lasaraleen curtsied in the proper Calormene style. Cor bowed with good grace. "Indeed, Tarkheena, you are most heartily welcome to Anvard," he said. "Such a friend to Aravis must be a friend of mine. I have much to be grateful to you for." I smiled at him.

"Does not the poet say, sir, that a service rendered to the worthy brings back tenfold in good will and friendship?" Lasaraleen murmured. "It is all I could do, and it gives me great pleasure to see that Aravis made it here after all, and to meet you, Your Highness. Really, I cannot wait to hear how your betrothal came about."

I smirked. "The story may interest you even more than you suppose, Las, but come along. " I called to the rest. "Come along, friends, we shall get you all settled in and comfortable."

As we walked inside, I noticed one of the higher-ranking servants, a lady finely dressed, and a young friend of Lasaraleen's- staring at me earnestly. The young friend, especially. He was obviously some young Tarkaan. Las had always been fond of children. I suppose she had invited him along for an educational experience. I spoke to the steward and soon had them placed in rooms fit for them all. Lasaraleen was to be right next to me, and she insisted the young Tarkaan be next to her.

It was a few hours before any of us could talk together. The entire party had to clean up and settle in, and then Lasaraleen declared she must see the King right away. She would not speak of anything until she had, which I thought very proper, but also rather unlike her. She had the servants bring down the two trunks of gifts she had brought, and went to him. She spoke very properly and very fairly to King Lune.

Apparently the old Tisroc had died and Rabadash had succeeded him. He was most anxious to reestablish good relations with Archenland and Narnia and had sent Lasaraleen with letters expressing his most politely worded intentions of peace and good will: very sincere in word, if not in sentiment. I remembered that Rabadash could not ever go more than ten miles from Tashbaan or suffer the rest of his life as a donkey. He could not very well lead the armies of Calormen against Archenland and Narnia as an Ass. I wondered why Lasaraleen had been chosen as Ambassador, though as a rich and educated Tarkheena she could not give offense. But she said just what she ought and not one sentence more, with all due gravity and decorum. I was impressed to the point of astonishment, and King Lune treated her most kindly, considering all she had done for me, though I could tell he held Rabadash's empty professions of amity with all the contempt they called for.

Then of course there was supper to be ordered. Bertha was in a positive temper. She'd been organizing everything in kitchens for the dignitaries that were due to arrive soon and for the wedding, and now there were more guests of consequence to cook for and she hadn't had even a day's warning. But she sent up a sumptuous meal regardless. Lasaraleen was sat at the King's right hand, with her attendants seated with the Lords, Ladies, and Knights of Archenland off the dais at the long main table. Cor, Corin, Dar, Cole, Ansel, and I completed the High Table.

As we ate, we talked of general news in Tashbaan- trade, fashions, Rabadash Tisroc's new policies, and so on. I was delighted to hear that Rabadash had fired Ahoshta Tarkaan from the post of Grand Vizier. I also learned a bit more in general about Lasaraleen's life up until now. Her husband, who, after all, hadn't been much younger than Ahoshta, had died last year of a heart attack. But rather than sinking her in importance, it had rather helped her along. She had his money and her own fortune completely at her own disposal now, but nevertheless, she was due to be remarried on her return to Tashbaan to Ulmish Tarkaan. This Ulmish, she explained, was not particularly wealthy or powerful, but of good principles and steady character. She did not say as much, but I believed she had had the power of choice in this instance of her marriage. I believed she had decided that she did not want to live alone, and had fortunately been in possession of wealth and power enough to pick someone that if she did not love him, she liked him well enough. King Lune expressed his condolences on her husband's death, and his best wishes for her future happiness as only he could do. I seconded them- Las had never been romantic, and she had the disposition to be happy wherever she was. She would be happier now than most Tarkheenas in Calormen. She held a position of dignity, had wealth, was well-liked at the palace, and she was marrying a man she chose.

After supper, Cor escorted the pair of us to Lasaraleen's room. "You will want to talk to your friend alone, I presume," he said.

"After six years? I should say so."

"I suppose I should go, then," he said with a big, dramatically tragic sigh.

"Oh, begone, Cor," I laughed. "I daresay I'll have leisure enough for _you_ two days hence." I smiled up at him. He held my gaze and raised my hands to his lips then.

"Goodnight then, Aravis. Tarkheena."

"Goodnight, Your Highness," Las bade him.

The minute we were inside she seized me by the hands, grinning like mad. "Oh, darling, he's a dream," she said. "A positive dream! So charming. And those eyes! I do declare, I'm wildly jealous. You must be quite head over heels for him."

I laughed in amazement. "And there you are, Las," I said, shaking my head. "I was wondering where you had got to in all that serious, dutiful ambassador."

"Oh, come sit down," she said, "And we'll talk all about it, darling."

She led me over to the bed and we sat across from one another, just like the old days.

"So," she began. "I suppose I've quite shocked you, turning up like this, and an ambassador, too."

"You have, rather," I admitted. "I never thought you'd do anything of the sort."

She waved a hand, rather more energetically than she used to. "Oh, I know, darling. I never thought I'd end up an ambassador either. But when my husband died, of course I was obliged to go into mourning for him-and I wasn't sorry to. He was always very kind to me, for all he _was_ rather old. But you know, it did become so terribly dull. I wanted something to do. And for some reason or other, I just couldn't forget about _you_. I'd never found out if you'd made it, and I couldn't help thinking maybe you _hadn't, _that maybe you'd died in the desert or something. It really was dreadful of you not to send _me_ a letter. Obviously you couldn't tell anyone _else, _but I _do _think you might have told _me_."

"And who was to take it, Las? For six years now there's been nothing save trade between Calormen and Archenland- and that a very cold, suspicious thing."

She sighed. "I suppose you're right, Aravis, but it was hard, all the same. In any event, when the Tisroc looked to die, they started looking all around for ambassadors to go to Archenland and Narnia. Darling, no one wanted to _go. _Not after Rabadash came back a common Ass six years ago. Dear, they call him Rabadash the Ridiculous now- behind his back, when we're not all obliged to wish he live forever- can you imagine? But since you'd left I'd been reading all about the North, wondering what had happened to you. So I volunteered. I guessed that as _I_ wouldn't be invading the place, that horrid demon might let me go home a woman again."

"Las, you mustn't-"I cried. "Aslan- you don't know him. He's not like that. You haven't met him- you couldn't know, but trust me. He's not a demon. He's good. Dangerous, yes, but good. He's better than anything or anyone. And he _did_ turn Rabadash into an Ass, but I think when he did it, all he _really_ did was let what Rabadash was really like out."

"Oh, darling, I know it. We all do," she said, a little self-consciously. "We're quite ashamed of him now. To think that I called him so lovely when you were with me before! He's nothing like your King Lune. Oh, he was ever so kind. Just think that they call them barbarians back home! It's really too funny- but rather sad, too. Now. I've something important to tell you- but you won't want to speak to me at all after I do, so you'll have to indulge me darling, and tell me all about you first."

I blinked. "You want to listen?"

She rolled her eyes. "Haven't you been? Really, Aravis. Haven't I just said the whole reason I came here was to see if I could find out what happened to you? So tell me." And she sat quite still, listening.

"You've changed a great deal," I told her. "Very well."

So I did tell her. I started by telling her exactly how I'd come to Archenland. Of course when I revealed what peasant-boy Shasta had been up to in Tashbaan while I'd been with her, and who he'd turned out to be, I couldn't go on for a while. She was too torn between amusement and astonishment.

"That young man that just kissed your hand at the door! Prince Cor of Archenland! _He_, a peasant boy? Fancy! Darling-"she burst out into outright giggles for the first time since she'd come-"You're marrying the peasant boy you ran away from Calormen with. It's too scandalous! Only think, if you come back to Calormen in fifteen years, they'll introduce _you_ as the barbarian queen." She giggled again.

I laughed, too. It was rather funny when she put it that way. In about a minute she had composed herself. "Oh, but he _is_ lovely, Aravis, dear. I don't blame you in the slightest. But how did it all come about?"

I told her briefly of my life here at Anvard, and how Cor and I had so gradually fallen in love we couldn't even now say exactly when it had happened. The realisation had been the sudden part. I related that with a laugh- it was funny now to think of how Cor had just blinked one evening and discovered he loved me, and how I had been so tormented thinking he would love anyone else, all the while refusing to acknowledge I felt anything more than friendship for him until he'd basically forced it out of me.

"And I've come just before your wedding! Excellent. I shall be able to help you on with your dress, and cry during the ceremony, and tell you all to beware of that night—"she broke off into giggles. "Darling, it's positively lucky!"

I smiled. "Indeed, I shall be glad to talk of it all to someone my own age and kind. I've been covering the subject thus far with middle-aged women and Talking Horses."

"Oh! Are-their names are Hwin and Bree, aren't they? Are they here?"

"Yes and yes. Also their respective spouses and Hwin and Brindee's foal Hrinoo."

"You simply must introduce me properly. Of course Hwin and Bree have seen me before, but now I shall be able to meet them."

"I'm sure they'd be delighted," I said. This was a lie. Bree had been positively glad to leave Lasaraleen's six years ago- and she had occasionally been a subject of ridicule even for the gentle Hwin. But undoubtedly she had been very kind to them and they would want to express their gratitude. And six years had, I thought, made a substantial improvement in her character. "Now. Las. What'd you have to tell me?"

Las looked slightly uncomfortable. "Darling- I'm not sure exactly how to go about this," she began. She seemed to resolve on something, and started up more confidently. "When you left, Aravis, of course I didn't tell anyone where you'd got to, or how. I couldn't, really. Imagine if I had! They would have killed me! And no-one suspected me for a moment. Of course they didn't. If you hadn't been forced, you wouldn't have told me anything about anything."

I looked away, and she laughed. "Oh, no, don't be embarrassed about it darling. You didn't trust anyone, then. And if you'd had to trust anyone, well I know you wouldn't have picked _me_."

"Las-"I began, trying to apologize. I had had no idea she'd read me so clearly. She waved an impatient hand.

"Anyway, Aravis, the _point _is that your father had no idea that I'd helped you to get away—and I was able to stay friends with him." She looked down at her hands. "I did feel rather bad about it. Kidrash Tarkaan was angry, of course, but he was far more hurt. He couldn't help but be very, very sad when you ran away, and didn't send any word back to him to let him know you were even alive. You were the third family member he'd lost- and this time- Aravis…this time he blamed himself for the loss. He was grieved, even beyond his embarrassment, which was, of course, considerable."

She looked up at me fleetingly. Her words were serious, and quiet: _very_ unlike her usual manner. I didn't know what to say. "I hadn't thought-"I began. "I never thought he'd take it so badly. I didn't want-"I broke off.

Las grabbed my hand. "Darling, don't beat yourself up over it. It's done now. He didn't know you when you left. He thought it was a good idea for you to marry that Ahoshta- I still don't know why you couldn't- but I see how much better it is for you to marry this barbarian former-peasant Prince Cor of yours." She laughed a little. "Everyone could see even two years before you left that he hadn't been paying the least real attention to you for a long time. And he wasn't _very_ miserable for long. See- Lanavisra Tarkheena had a baby."

"Still-I ought to send a letter back with you," I fretted. "Wait. Lanavisra had a baby?"

Las nodded. "I'm afraid she spoils him dreadfully, darling. His name is Rashan. He's nearly five now. He's well-looking enough- but such a temper! He has his own way much too often. But he reminds your Father of Kadmel, dear, and so he doesn't say a word."

"I have another brother?"

"Half-brother, dear. He's nothing like you or your mother (upon whom be the peace of the gods) at all in temperament. He takes after Lanavisra, poor thing. But he _has_ been a comfort to your father."

I nodded. "And Hashafed?"

Here she looked down again. "That's just it, Aravis," she said. "Darling, of course Lanavisra favours Rashan dreadfully. The poor boy's frightfully neglected. So now and again he comes and stays with _me_ for a while. I've grown quite fond of him. He's just as brave and good as you ever were, without being half so queer." She gave a little half-smile. "Aravis, I asked your father if 'Afed might be interested in a trip abroad. He considered it educational, and he trusted me, gods bless him. He's here with me."

I could hardly breathe. "Your young companion-"I gasped. "I never got a good look at him. He was staring at me…"

She nodded. "When we were settling in I told his nurse to settle him as best she could. I hadn't _told _him, see, that we might find you. He would have been so terribly disappointed if we hadn't. Until just a few hours ago- the boy believed you dead."

My heart was racing. I leapt from the bed. "I must go to him at once!" I cried. Las sprung up and seized my hand.

"No!" she said. "Dear, you mustn't. Only imagine what he's feeling! He's thought you dead- now he is sorting through it all: finding you alive and well and happy _without him_."

I felt like I'd just been doused in a bucket of ice water. I sank to the bed again. "Oh," I said. My voice sounded faint and distant. "Is he-is he very angry with me? I would have thought he would forget—"

"He hasn't," Lasaraleen assured me, at once both a comfort and a terror. "Darling, you must prepare yourself," she said seriously. "Overall, I think you did right, flying to Archenland as you did. But dear, you can't have thought that you didn't hurt anyone, running away like that. And Hashafed," she hesitated. "I'd venture to say, dear, that he's the one you hurt the most. You must go away tonight. It's late anyway. I shall go speak to him- and tomorrow- tomorrow you will need to explain yourself."

I found myself nodding. She embraced me briefly and walked me to my room, and before I knew it I was alone in my chambers, thinking very hard.

Hashafed here! And it not, perhaps, entirely an occasion of joy! That he might blame me upon a reunion is a thought that had never once crossed my mind. I had thought Lanavisra loved him, at least, that he should be happy and well-cared for and would forget me in time. Now Lasaraleen told me that this was not the case. Hashafed neglected! This half-brother so shamelessly preferred and my father apparently oblivious as ever! That cost another pang. My father might have his faults, but Las had made it quite clear that among those I'd hurt on my departure, he had been a great sufferer, at least for a time.

That I'd hurt people on my departure from Calormen. This, too, was new. I hadn't thought I was leaving hardly anyone that cared for me. I'd known that I had hurt Nasreen undeservedly on my escape for six years. But the notion that others had cared enough to feel my departure was something I hadn't- perhaps hadn't wanted to consider. Lasaraleen had been anxious enough to actively study the North and become an ambassador to seek me out. She'd admitted to consistent, peace-disturbing anxiety over me, and yet, as she had pointed out, we hadn't even been the best of friends. How much more had my father felt? Or the little brother only two rooms away now- not loved as I had thought, and apparently not forgetful.

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><p><strong>AN: So this is another chapter I ended up splitting. The next one will be a bit longer, including Aravis' conversation with Hashafed and some Cor-Corin-Aravis-Lasaraleen-Hashafed bonding, before the final wedding chapter. I hope I presented a grown-up Lasaraleen properly. I'd like to think that Aravis' departure began a change in her that was only aided by six years and her husband's death, dispensing with a lot of her girlish vanity and silliness and leaving the generous, not really foolish young woman she'd always had it in her to be. Of course she still talks too much. That was a necessity. I hope you enjoyed her return; I enjoyed writing it. There oughtn't to be so much longer before I post the next chapter- I've got eight pages into it. Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp**


	24. Setting Things to Rights

**Disclaimer: **_**Horse and His Boy**_** blahblah C.S. Lewis blahblahblah I make no profit blahblahblah Good now?**

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><p>Chapter Twenty-Four<p>

There was a knock on my door very shortly after breakfast the next morning. My heart leapt into my throat. I was trembling as I walked over to open it. But it was not Las with Hashafed. It was Cor.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said. "They're saying that the boy your friend the Tarkheena brought with her is your brother. Is it true?"

I nodded mutely and collapsed into his arms. He caught me and held me close for a moment, rubbing a comforting circle on my back. Leaving the door open, he led me firmly over to the sofa. "Sit down," he said. "Tell me about it."

I nodded once and began. "I never thought I'd see him again, Cor! And I ought to have recognized him at once, for all I _didn't _get a good look at him. I feel _terrible_ that I didn't- Las had to tell me! And he hasn't forgotten me, Cor. He was only a little boy when I left- just five years old- I thought surely he would forget me. But he hasn't. And he hasn't been happy, either. I thought Lanavisra loved 'Afed and would take care of him, but she had a son and favours _him_. And my father- I suppose Hashafed's just a reminder to _him_ of all that he's lost. And it's my fault, Cor! I never dreamed- and I've got to talk to him this morning- and whatever shall I say?"

This all came out in a rush of emotion. I hadn't slept at all- I'd been so worried the night before. I was tired and nervous and it was such a relief to tell Cor. He watched me expressionlessly through the whole disgraceful, impassioned recital. When I had done, he nodded. "I had thought that you'd be worried," he said. "But he's your brother, and he loves you, right?"

I hesitated. "It's been so long for him- over half his life!"

"Six years. It was fourteen for me. Corin and King Lune loved me at once."

"Yes, but your separation from King Lune and Corin was involuntary- on both sides. I should have had to leave Hashafed anyway, if I had married, but I would at least have been able to be there for him. What if he blames me?"

Cor thought a moment. "He may," he admitted. "But you love him, don't you?"

"Cor! I've told you before that the only thing I regret leaving behind in Calormen is my brother. I've missed him every day! Of course I love him!"

"Tell him, then. How old is he now? Ten?"

"Eleven."

Cor stood, beginning to pace. "Eleven. Old enough to understand, then. You'll have to explain everything, Aravis. Tell him _why_ you left. Tell him you thought they would love him and take care of him. And you _must_ tell him what you just told me- that is, that you've missed him every single day."

I nodded, somewhat comforted and a great deal more resolved as to what I would do. "But, Cor- how on earth am I to manage it? What will he say?"

"That will be his decision," Cor said, coming back and grabbing my hand. "Aravis, you can do this. You're the bravest person I know, and you've never been backward about facing up to consequences. It's one of the things I love about you." He hesitated. "If it will help, I could go with you."

I smiled at him-reached out to touch his face. "Bless you!" I said. "But no. This first conversation I shall have to have with Hashafed alone. If all goes well, though—"I broke off. "Better not," I said, thinking again. "I shall simply have to go do it, that's all, never mind the if-all-goes-wells and what-if-he-hates-me's of it."

He nodded. "I ought to meet him soon, though," he said thoughtfully. "Before I marry you day-after-tomorrow, definitely."

"Your meeting with him may go no better than mine," I said ruefully.

"Well, if you can go meet him now I daresay that I'll manage well enough," Cor said. He helped me to my feet. "Come on. What must be done is best done now, as Father always says. I'll walk you to his room."

I smiled hesitantly. He walked me two doors down accordingly. He looked at me then, as we stood before the closed door. I nodded, and he rapped three times on the door.

"Enter," said a small voice. I looked back at Cor once for strength. He gave me an encouraging smile, and I thrust back my shoulders, and opened the door, closing it behind me.

He sat there alone- garbed in fine gold and crimson cloth- in the Calormen style. His jeweled turban had been cast aside, though, and he was bare-headed, sitting with his legs crossed under him on the sofa so similar to mine. His black curls were every bit as unruly as my own, and he looked up at me from the dark brown eyes I remembered so well. But his face was lean and expressionless.

"You are my sister," he said. "You are taller than I remember."

I ventured to sit across from him on the loveseat, drawing my own legs up in the same style as him. "So are you," I said. "You are a proper boy now: no longer a child."

"No one knew where you had gone," he said. "Everyone back home thinks you are dead. You have been _here_?" His voice was accusing.

I nodded helplessly. This was not the dear child I had left behind. This was a grave-eyed young Tarkaan I hardly knew- one who had grown up under Lanavisra's neglect and my father's apparent acceptance of it.

He continued to stare at me, making me shift uncomfortably. "I knew right away you had run away," he informed me. "When you did not come back the third day, that is. You had been so strange the night before. No one believed me for weeks- and then you were just gone. When you had been gone a year with no message- they said you must have died. Then Lanavisra had the baby- Rashan."

"You-you don't call her 'Mother'?"

"O my sister," he said using the formal address with a mocking tone intended to injure. "When you were not there to irk her more than I, and she had had a son of her own, what cause had my stepmother to treat me as a son? What reason have I had to call her Mother?"

"But surely Father…"

He interrupted. "I remind Father of Mother, and of our brother that died when I was but an infant." He raised an eyebrow. "And of you. When a man receives as many blows as that, he is happy to forget. For more than half of these six years past, I have lived under the roof of Lasaraleen Tarkheena, or of other friends." He shrugged. "Mostly Lasaraleen. I had wondered why she seemed to love me so. She has told me at last that all these years she has known whither you had gone, O my sister, though she had no more idea than I whether or not you had survived. Now I know why she has cared for me, at least."

"No," I cried out. "'Afed, surely she loves you for you!" I believed it- Las had taken such care to preserve him last night with a warning.

"I daresay she does," Hashafed replied. "Now. But she took me on, doubtless, for love of you. All this time she has known—"he broke off, finally losing his awful coolness. His face flushed darker with anger and confusion knit his brow.

"She's been so very good," I said.

"Better than you," Hashafed said harshly. "Why did you leave?"

I blinked. I hadn't been expecting the blunt question, though now it came to it I wondered what I had expected. "'Afed-"I began.

"Don't call me that!" he snapped.

I bit my lip, remembered Cor, and went on. "'Afed, I would have had to leave you anyway. They were trying to marry me to Ahoshta Tarkaan."

"The former Grand Vizier?"

"Yes, Lasaraleen told me Rabadash deposed him. Rabadash never liked him."

"But he's so old!" Hashafed exclaimed, seeming to forget his anger for a moment in astonishment.

I shrugged. "Our dear stepmother was anxious to get rid of me."

The ghost of a smile appeared on Hashafed's face for half of a moment. "I can see how she would have been. Lasaraleen has told me stories- and the servants."

"You must have lost me one way or the other, Hashafed," I said. "To marriage, to the North, or to death. In truth, I would not have minded Ahoshta's age too terribly. Lasaraleen's husband was old. But Ahoshta had been a supporter of the war that killed Kadmel, 'Afed. And you must have heard how those that oppose him disappear or fall from favour. I had no reason to suppose him kind. I nearly killed myself, brother."

Something shifted in Hashafed's face, and I dared to hope that this troubled him. "Why didn't you?" he asked, not in that hard tone, but voice still so tense.

"Grace," I answered simply. "By chance, my mare was a slave- a Talking Horse from Narnia. She stopped me. She offered us both freedom. Forgive me, 'Afed, but I took the chance."

He looked up. "I needed you, Aravis," he said. "I did not forget you. I could not, with such change around me as there was."

"You are angry."

He frowned. "I am." But he spread his hands then, "But I find I am also glad that you are alive and well. And I understand, a little, why you left. But there was no demon of Narnia to take me away." He spoke more freely now, looking to me to answer his confusion. "I do not know what I feel," he admitted.

I extended a hand to him across the space that divided us. Hesitantly, he placed his own thin hand within mine. My heart went out to him. "O my brother, you are still so very much a child, aren't you?"

He bit his lip, and closed his eyes, steeling himself against the tears as I had done so many, many times before. But he squeezed my hand hard. After a moment, he opened his eyes. "Aravis, I have not, in truth, had things so very hard," he confessed. "Lasaraleen has been as another sister to me- and I have been fortunate in my friends. But…I missed you."

"I missed you also, 'Afed," I told him emphatically. "My greatest regret was in leaving you."

He nodded then. I could see he had not quite forgiven me; he was still hurting. But he was ready to listen, and by and by, to love me again. "Tell me of your journey," he said. "Tell me of your life, Aravis."

I smiled. "Come sit close to me, then, as you did so often when you were but a child and I told you tales." I budged over on the loveseat, and he came over, willingly enough to sit next to me.

"Nurse tells me stories like this," he remarked. "It always reminded me of you."

I grabbed his hand then. "Now," I began. "The first thing you need to know is that Hwin is not a demon. She'll object to that very strenuously if you call her one when you meet her later on."

"She's here?" Hashafed asked, relaxing into informal speech to my gratitude.

"Oh, yes, she, her friends, and her husband and little daughter are all visiting Anvard."

And I told him. I told him how I had left, and in return he told me that three years after I had left Baba had died. I sighed a little at that, but he had been old, and always treated kindly. I hoped he had not died poorly.

"They never did discover that it was he that wrote the letter, Aravis," Hashafed told me, sensing my distress. "He was buried with honour- for a slave."

This brought Nasreen to my mind. I winced, but told him baldly how wrongly I had behaved towards her. Hashafed's brow wrinkled a bit in confusion. "Lasaraleen said that we mustn't bring slaves to Archenland and Narnia," he remarked. "You don't have slaves here, do you? I understand how it was wrong for you to drug the girl and get her into trouble- but you talk like it was wrong for her to be beaten in the first place."

I explained briefly how slaves were people, too. "You would not like to be treated like a slave, would you?"

"Of course not!" he cried indignantly.

"Why not?"

"Because…" he trailed off and looked thoughtful. "Oh. I see."

"People serve you much more gladly when they are paid, and given free days, and can leave when they want."

He frowned. "But then shouldn't we do that instead of having slaves?" he asked. Then he shook his head. "Never mind for now, though. Tell me more about that later. Go on."

I told him how I had gone North, and how Aslan had forced me to meet up with Bree and Shasta. Here I was obliged again to explain how Aslan was _not_ a horrible demon- a dangerous, powerful entity, true, but also better than all our vengeful, speechless gods in Calormen. 'Afed was not quite sure about this, but he promised at least not to call him a demon. He was very interested in the story by this time, and was willing to let Aslan off the hook "-if he was good to _you_".

I explained how Shasta had been so good and helpful all along, and told unflinchingly how I had looked down upon him, but nonetheless been dreadfully worried when he'd been separated from us in Tashbaan.

I told him again how Las had helped me out of the city and I had met up with the others at the Tombs. Lasaraleen had told him the night before that she had helped me, but he didn't know how. He shuddered most appreciatively when I mentioned the Tombs. I told how we'd all gone to Anvard, and how Shasta had been discovered for the Prince Cor at last.

The left out the race through the desert and its purpose. I did not want to tell my little brother how I had heard secret councils and aided in the infamous defeat of Prince Rabadash at Anvard. But when I had done, I realised that it had been no good. 'Afed was frowning.

"But, Aravis, you must've been at Anvard, then, when the Tisroc (may he live forever) was turned into a Donkey and all of those Tarkaans were killed. Can you tell me about that? Do you know what happened?"

I took in a deep breath. "'Afed, if I tell you, you must promise never to tell a soul back in Calormen."

His eyes lit up with interest, but his jaw was set. He nodded. "I swear."

I searched his face, but found no lie in it. He really would keep the secret. "Fine then. We happened, Hashafed. Lasaraleen and I. Then the Horses, Cor and I. The night Las let me out of Tashbaan we overheard Rabadash's plan to take over Archenland and attack Narnia to get back Queen Susan the Gentle, whom he wanted to marry at the time. We raced him and two hundred horse all the way across the desert and got here to warn them. Rabadash was captured. He had behaved like an Ass-and Aslan turned him into one."

He stared at me for a long moment. "Then, even now: now that Lasaraleen would protect you and Ahoshta Tarkaan is disgraced and you're all grown up, you can't come back. You're-you're a traitor."

I looked at him carefully, unsure how he was going to react to this. "Yes."

He edged away then, dropping my hand. He put his head in his hands. "By Tash!" he muttered. "Better that they _do_ think you're dead in Calormen, I must say!" He was silent a moment, digesting all this. Then he looked up at me. "But it wasn't fair for the Tisroc to try to attack without warning like that, was it?"

"You didn't say 'may he live forever'" I pointed out softly.

"He's not here," Hashafed said defiantly. "And saying 'may he live forever' didn't stop the last Tisroc dying." He shook his head in wonder. "Aravis-I feel I ought to hate you and refuse to speak to you or to say your name ever again. But I can't help thinking you did right." He looked at me again nervously. "Does that make me a traitor, too?"

I fought an urge to cheer. But I couldn't help saying very cheerfully indeed, "Probably."

His little jaw firmed up, and he nodded his head once. "And Lasaraleen- she's a traitor, too."

I grabbed his hand again. "If she is, it's a complete accident, Hashafed," I told him earnestly. "That's why you must keep quiet about this."

His eyebrows rose. "You don't think I'd tell on _her_, do you?" he asked scornfully. "Or on you?" His mouth twisted and he added, "Not that it'd do any good, now that you live _here_. But no. You're a traitor. She's a traitor. I guess I'm a traitor, because I can't think you did anything wrong. So be it then. But what happened to you, sister, after you were received at Anvard?"

I shrugged. "I grew up. I made friends. And now I'm getting married. By choice this time."

Hashafed wrinkled his nose. "To the barbarian prince," he said flatly. "The peasant boy you saved Archenland with."

"In two days' time. You'll be here for the wedding."

Hashafed looked at our joined hands. Slowly he spoke again. "I thought I had a dead sister," he said. "Now I find I do not. I find she is alive, but I also find that she is mad." He gave a little half smile. "Mad and traitorous." He laughed a little. "And I find also that I do not mind a fraction of what I ought. I must be mad as well, Aravis. Are they good to you here?"

I squeezed his hands. "So, so very good," I said emphatically. "'Afed, I don't deserve it, mad and traitorous as I am. But I am quite scandalously in love with Prince Cor, and for whatever reason he loves me, too. To marry for love: what an incredible luxury! And King Lune is as our father should have been. The Prince Corin is a dear friend. And everyone has been so kind to me." I hesitated. "Hashafed- you could stay, you know. I love you, and I'm sure everyone else would, too. I've missed you so terribly."

Hashafed looked up at me with his great, expressive brown eyes. "To hear you talk of it now, I almost think I could, Aravis. But I couldn't let Lasaraleen go home and explain things to Father. It would hurt him dreadfully, Lanavisra and Rashan and all. And just as I have no Hwin, I also have no Ahoshta. I really may marry whom I please when I am old enough. And…"

"And?"

"I cannot leave Lasaraleen," he said. "She is more family to me than my own, you know. She _has_ been there for me, all these years." The words were not an accusation, but the slight emphasis stung, nonetheless. "And she has her position and fiancé to go back to in Calormen. But-" he hesitated. "I shall ask her if I mayn't stay here at Anvard when she goes on to Narnia. And I don't know but that I might be able to come visit in the future, now I know where you are. I will not leave Calormen, but neither do I think we ought to be strangers."

I nodded. "Your loyalty does you credit," I said. I opened my arms and he leaned forward into my embrace. "I am glad to see you again," I said. "I love you, Hashafed."

"I love you, too," he murmured quietly.

We talked a little more, and then saw fit to come out. Lasaraleen was sitting with Cor and King Lune on the terrace with dinner, and she looked gratified to see us hand in hand.

"Oh, good!" she said. "You did come to an understanding, then."

"I did tell you they would, Tarkheena," said Cor.

I curtsied. "Your Majesty, Prince Cor? Of course you have seen him, but may I formally introduce my younger brother, Hashafed Tarkaan?"

Hashafed bowed stiffly, and King Lune came to meet him. "Dear lad, you are most heartily welcome! The friendship of one so dear to Aravis, beloved of my son, like a daughter to me, can only add joy to this happiest of times."

Hashafed relaxed a bit, and Lasaraleen smiled encouragingly. "Sir, my sister has told me how much you have done for her since she came here," he said. "I have missed her terribly, but still I may feel gratitude to you for sheltering her so kindly." His words were half-shy, but very polite.

"'Tis she that has been a blessing to us, young Tarkaan," King Lune said, "But come! Sit with us! Eat, and tell us of your friends in Calormen."

King Lune's courtly manner, Cor's frank eagerness to get to know him, and Lasaraleen's laughing, delighted encouragement soon set my brother completely at ease, and by the end of the dinner hour he was chatting away merrily to King Lune about a hawking party he'd gone on three weeks ago with his friend Imari Tarkaan. When the attendants came forward to take away the dishes, he looked from me to Lasaraleen quickly, and then up at the young man taking his plate away.

"Thank you, sir," he said shyly, as if unsure he was doing right.

The young man smiled at him. "No trouble at all, young master."

King Lune beamed at him, pleased by his courtesy. "Now, young Tarkaan, Tarkheena. Wilt want to see the castle, no doubt."

"I will take them, Father," Cor volunteered. "Aravis, you'll come, won't you?"

I grinned at him. "If only to make sure you don't bore them half to death, dearest," I teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Your sister thinks she is very clever, Tarkaan," he remarked loftily. "Come along then. You, too, Tarkheena."

Lasaraleen rose. She took my arm and whispered to me. "Let's go with them, darling, but follow at a distance."

"You're right," I said. "Cor wanted to talk to 'Afed."

Cor looked back over his shoulder at me. I waved cheerily. He nodded appreciatively and began to talk to 'Afed, about the castle, but also about things we had done in it, growing up. At first Hashafed just listened, but after a while he began asking questions. Las and I could only just hear. He asked about lessons with Lord Darrin, about the people we'd met and the places we'd been.

We eventually made it out to the lawn. The Horses were there. Bree and Hwin were able to thank Lasaraleen properly for the first time for what she had done to them all those years ago. She laughed merrily and told them not to mention it. Hashafed's eyes went wide. He explained to me later that there was quite a difference between hearing _me_ say Horses could talk and actually _talking_ to Horses. But after he got over the shock he got on quite well with Hrinoo. He and Cor and Bree had just begun a make-believe battle with her (with Brindee presiding as judge) when Corin came upon the scene.

Seeing my brother brandish high a stick like a scimitar and charge as Bree directed him against Cor and Hrinoo, Corin felt compelled to offer to fight him. In a trice, Corin and Hashafed were squared off against one another with the old weighted wooden swords. Cor was correcting my brother's grip gently- showing him the ways straight swordplay differed from the scimitar lessons he was already learning. Bree was standing there by the yard telling Brindee and Lasaraleen all about the many young warriors he'd seen learn the sword, and bragging on my fiancé like anything- as if he, not the Lord Cole, had taught Cor to be such a superb swordsman, rather than just teaching him horsemanship.

Watching Hashafed dart out at Prince Corin with more energy than finesse, grinning ear to ear as Cor clapped for him, I couldn't help but smile. This was how it should be. Right then, things were nigh well perfect. And with a glow in my heart, I knew two days would only add to it all.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Just the last left then! I'll be sad to finish writing this story like many people are sad to finish reading a story. I've had so much fun hanging out in Aravis' head and getting to know the other characters so much better. I hope you haven't regretted reading this far, and I hope I shan't disappoint in the grand finale! **

**God Bless,**

**LMSharp **


	25. The Sun on My Face

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. This is what happens in canon. I just guessed at it, and C.S. Lewis gets all the credit for the imagining of it. **

Chapter Twenty-Five

All the next day people arrived for the wedding. All the nobles in the castle made themselves ready. Nobles that had been seeing to their lands and families away from Anvard came back. Many representatives from villages near and far came. The party from Telmar arrived, and the representatives from Galma, Terebinthia, and the Lone Islands had all arrived on one ship in the port. King Peridan, his family, and a few good knights and creatures of Narnia came late the evening before the wedding. The steward was kept very busy getting rooms and clothes and water for them all, and that night in the Great Hall King Lune beamed at how full his castle was of smiling well-wishers for Cor and I.

The day of the wedding dawned. That morning there was a bit of to-do among the women as to who was going to help me prepare- who was going to help me on with my dress and do my hair and things like that. I could hear the argument outside of my door. Lady Thelma steadfastly maintained that she had gotten me through pimples and helped me make over my wardrobe as I had grown and seen me through the sundry other things that growing girls dealt with. She would not dream of missing this chance to see me safely into the care of the Prince. Lasaraleen stubbornly insisted that she was my oldest friend at Anvard: she knew me- better yet, she knew how to _dress_, and these Archenlanders didn't at _all. _She was not to be cheated out of the dear woman friend's part this happy morning. But then my faithful Winifred was fiercely contending against these worthy women's claims to my service. Had she not looked after me loyally every morning and every night since my arrival? Should not she help me, too, on this most important of days?

I opened the door as soon as I heard them come bustling up quarrelling. "Dear ladies," I laughed. "I love you all. Indeed! I couldn't turn any of you away this morning. Come in. I should be glad of all of your help."

Each of the women scowled jealously at the others. They all had different ways of doing things, but eventually they got things settled, and Winifred was fussing over my dress and hair, Las was examining the stitching in my train with her critical eye, and Lady Thelma was arranging the bouquet of flowers I was to carry down. I was glad for their chatter and business. I was happy, but so unaccountably nervous. My heart was fluttering like a butterfly.

Finally all was done and the three women led me to the looking glass. I wore no veil; I had denied one. I felt I needed no disguise, no barrier between Cor and myself. Winifred had pinned my heavy curls up artfully, and the princess' circlet at on my brow. My dress was simply cut- white, but overlaid completely with rich, beautiful lace. A green satin sash symbolised the anticipated fertility of the marriage.

"You look lovely, dear," Thelma said.

"Milady, you are everything you should be," said Winifred proudly.

"Oh, she looks every inch the barbarian princess, to be sure," Lasaraleen told them laughingly. "Not at all how a Calormene bride would dress; the Tarkheenas in Tashbaan would be properly horrified, mind you. But she's the prettiest I've ever seen her. But Aravis, that's not the point. Don't let them tell you it is for one second, darling. The clothes don't make the bride- and that's _me_ talking. You're not just pretty, you're positively _radiant_. You look happy and gracious and good, dear, darling Aravis."

Thelma looked appraisingly at Lasaraleen. "She does. Lady Aravis- you're fit to marry a Prince because you are gracious and good- and because you love Prince Cor, never mind the pretty clothes. Your friend has the right of it."

Winifred sniffed. "The clothes don't hurt, though," she stressed. "Oh, milady, you're a dear heart, and no mistake- and His Highness loved you long before you got so beautiful- but I daresay he'll just about burst with the pride of marrying you today." She tugged on a sleeve with proprietary pride, and I laughed at her.

After the ladies had given me counsel, according to that most ancient and universal of customs, they left me to join the others on the Great Lawn. I went down alone to the garden. There King Lune, Hashafed, and Hwin were waiting.

Hwin had had herself properly groomed for the occasion, and both King Lune and Hashafed were splendidly dressed.

"Oh!" cried Hwin delightedly. "Aravis! You look splendid!"

"O my sister!" said Hashafed, eyes shining in admiration, "Your beauty shines like—"failing to find a proper simile, he gave it up. "You're so beautiful!"

I laughed and hugged him gently, careful to rumple neither my dress nor his dress clothes. "Thank you, brother mine, Hwin."

Hwin came up and carefully nudged my arm with her nose. "I have been waiting for this day, Aravis," she said quietly. "I can see the happiness on your face. I can hear it in your voice. I can smell it around you. My friend, my friend, if only I could say what it meant to me!" Her voice quivered with joy.

"My dear Hwin!" I said. "I love you dearly."

Hashafed came back, and stood on tip-toe to kiss me on the cheek. He grinned at me. "O mad sister of mine, go marry this former-peasant barbarian prince of a lover of yours. I'll be watching."

He and Hwin left, and I was there with King Lune. I smiled at him. He took my hand in his. "Art thou ready?" he asked quietly.

"To marry Cor? Yes. To go out there and maybe trip in front of all those people? Not at all," I said lightly, but my stomach turned over.

"Lean on me, dear daughter," he said. "And then, lean on Cor. The crowd is naught. There is only thou, and him. Come. Cor is waiting."

I nodded once, gave him my arm, and we strode out onto the lawn. The musicians were playing. There were near two hundred very important people assembled on the lawn- nobles and diplomats from Archenland and from abroad. I saw King Peridan and his family with the dwarves of Narnia. I noticed with pleasure that Little Fwirra, now a young woman of a dryad, had made the long journey from her tree at Cair Paravel to come. Little Gia waved at me, beaming from ear to ear. Towards the front, there were the Horses, and the old teachers and dear friends of Anvard, and Las, and Hashafed, and Corin. And there standing at the western end of the Great Lawn by the brook was Cor, dressed in white and green as I was, and looking at me.

As King Lune had said, all else disappeared. There was only him and me. And he looked at me with such wonder, admiration, and love that I could have sworn my very soul leaped out of my body and all but flew over to his. I felt that I glided over the green summer grass, and then he was extending his hand to meet mine just a bit too quickly, and King Lune was handing me over, and he went around to stand before us and begin.

The ceremony was simple, very different from what a Calormene wedding would be. The words were ancient; some of them made absolutely no sense. It was a very old text, preserved through a millennium in Archenland, King Lune had told me, from the wedding ceremony the first king of Narnia, King Frank I, had written down for his second son, King Lucian. He was Archenland's very first King. And the wedding ceremony had been handed down, more or less intact, from that day onward, from Father to son, or Father to daughter, the few times the succession had passed from a sonless King. I had looked over the vows with great interest when he had shown them to Cor and I- they reminded me vaguely of those old stories from the other world the Queen Lucy had told me so long ago. I had talked to Lord Darrin about it- he said that there were half-remembered legends that the King Frank and his wife Queen Helen had come into the world at the beginning from another place, the same place the Lord Digory and the Lady Polly had come from, the day the Tree of Protection was planted in Narnia. He had said that when the Four came into Narnia from another world, certain of the old scholars speculated that they had come, once, from the very same world as all men had come from in our world.

Now, as Cor and I recited the strange words, wedding hearts, hands, and lives before the earth, before those present, and by Aslan, I wondered how many people before had recited them- not just here in Archenland, not just in Narnia in the centuries before the Witch, but perhaps…perhaps in that Other Place. Was I descended from the same race that brought forth the mysterious Four? Was Cor? I did not know, but thinking of it, I felt close to them, and to those generations that had wedded here at Anvard before me. The countless princesses, princes, kings, and queens that had made these promises of love and faithfulness, promises to cherish and protect and obey.

Cor's eyes caressed my face as he made his vows to me- I had to stop myself from dancing for joy. When the time came I wanted to shout mine out, but all I could manage was a low, ardent murmur. But I pressed his hands with my own fervently, feeling in my very soul the birth of this new creature our union. Maybe that was what King Lune meant by "one flesh", and by "let it not be torn asunder". And then, before I knew it, we were wed.

"My son, my son," King Lune said, smiling so that his face almost disappeared in the smile. "Go on then. Kiss thy bride."

And Cor was almost as radiant as I imagined I was. His hand came up to cup my face, and my eyes fluttered shut, and his lips were on mine, and the sound ringing in my ears was people cheering. It was a little bit awkward- my very first kiss, but so infinitely sweet that all the awkwardness was more than made up for. And it was Cor. He left my lips reluctantly, and I smiled up at him. We turned to face the witnesses, and Hashafed was grinning. Las was smiling through tears. Little Hrinoo was prancing about the other Horses, whose ears were held and whose eyes were sparkling in just the way that I knew they were very pleased and not a little bit moved. Corin's smile was fit to rival his father's. Overhead, the sun shone down on my face, beautifully, dazzlingly bright in my eyes. And on the eastern ridge, brighter still, at the back of this story just as He had always been, I saw the Lion, Aslan, a beacon of shining gold on the green hills and against the clear blue sky. Cor grew still beside me, and I knew he saw Him, too. A quieter, deeper joy took root in my spirit. For now I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, our marriage was blessed. We would be healthy, and happy, and good. It might not always be easy. In fact, it would be folly to assume that it would be. But Aslan before us, Cor and I would go on. Together. Always.

**A/N: Thanks for all the support through this story. I hope you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**Thanks to my reviewers: almostinsane; LyraMeadows43; rthstewart; divergary; Define_X; lirikiril; Laura_Andrews; Calyn; Rose_and_Psyche; penspot; keywizard2; Khione'sKid.306; Queen_Emily_The_Diligent; and We_Stand_Victorious. **

**You guys made me smile, kept me motivated, and helped me make this much better than it would have been without your help. Your time and comments have been appreciated far more than you know.**

**God Bless you All!**

**LMSharp**


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